King of Hell (AHS: Apocalypse)
by Jurana Keri
Summary: The Antichrist has fallen in love with the swamp witch, causing a myriad of problems for both the realms of spirit and form. Will they come to a solution? [Based on the Hades/Persephone myth; a Michael/Misty pairing]
1. Ch 1 - The Promise

_Chapter 1: The Promise_

Misty Day had been trapped in the nether realms for about five years. Five years. That is a very long time. Cordelia, having returned to New Orleans with her witches, had sat down with the young woman she had known for a short time, but missed so dearly. She remembered being at the Hawthorn School for Exceptional Young Men just a week ago to administer the test of the Seven Wonders to a very promising, but mysterious young man; his name was Michael Langdon. He passed the tests with flying colors – telekinesis, concilium, divination, transmutation, pyrokinesis, vitalum vitalis, descensum – but Cordelia knew there was something about him that didn't sit quite right. The fear still weighed on her mind, even though during his trip to hell, he brought back Misty at her request. He had also brought back Madison and Queenie, something she herself, as Supreme, could never achieve. An endeavor driven by a vision of the future now changed entirely – Cordelia knew Michael could never reign as Supreme in a sane, just way. Again, something about him just did not seem right at all.

Misty was cupping her tea close to her face, taking sips gingerly as to not burn her lips. In the background played _Edge of Seventeen_ on the stereo by her favorite singer, Stevie Nicks, and Cordelia was in front of her.

"Did you sleep well, Misty?" she asked.

"Yeah," Misty replied with a nod, reaching for a jelly donut on the confectionary display in front of her. "I'm still starvin'. They don't serve solid food in hell."

"The warlocks at Hawthorn gave you a full meal," Cordelia said. "That was nice of them. I never expected such a kind gesture from them… toward any of us."

"Why?" Misty's bright blue eyes looked innocently at Cordelia, ignorant to what had gone down between the Salem descendants and the warlocks.

"They want to steal my crown," Cordelia said despondently. "A man has never attempted the Seven Wonders until Michael did last week. There is something wrong with him. I can't put my finger on it, but… I saw a face like his in my vision. I saw the future."

Misty tilted her head, biting the jelly donut and getting a little powder on her lips. As she chewed, she remembered that she got a very strange feeling from the young man who resurrected her.

"I ain't educated, but I ain't no fool," she said, her mouth slightly full before swallowing. "I've been able to sense evil since I was a child… you almost fainted at the sight of him. My heart started poundin'. You know better than I, Miss Cordelia, but… there _was_ somethin' evil about him. He even reeked of death. The very perfume of death. I ain't gonna forget that anytime soon."

Cordelia looked at Misty and pursed her lips downward, having a sip of her tea before putting it on the table before her. She watched Misty grab another donut and stuff her face with it, getting a little more powder not only on her ethereal face but on the shawl Stevie herself had given her years before.

"Misty…" she began, her dark eyes looking into those of the swamp witch. "You need protection now, more than ever. Not just healing. I'm so happy Stevie appeared on such short notice for you, but please… you are attending the evening gathering right? Are you up for it?"

Misty nodded rapidly, chewing on the jelly donut: "mhm."

* * *

Just after dinner, Cordelia called for a special meeting of her witches that were no longer students of the academy. Misty was the first one to appear, as she remembered Cordelia instructing her to hours before when they shared tea and donuts. Zoe, dressed in a black pantsuit and a stylish wide-brimmed hat, came into the ancestry room next, her doe eyes glistening and her sleek light brown hair moving swiftly in sync with her gait. Just behind her was Myrtle, an elderly witch with flaming red hair extensions and eccentric fashion sense who served as a mother figure to Cordelia most of her life. Madison and Queenie came in at the same time, both still dressed from dinner. The only exceptions to the no-students rule in this gathering were Coco and Mallory, relatively new to the academy but both promising in their own ways. Coco, the cocky, rude daughter of one of the most prominent billionaires in the world, was still doubtful of her abilities but studying with Cordelia has helped her hone her divination skills. Mallory could easily be a little sister to Misty, as she was a white witch with the ability to heal injuries, bring dead animals back to life, and even turned white rose petals blue and made them fly like butterflies. She even looked the part – she was the only one in the room dressed in all white, celestial jewelry, and a gilded leaf headband.

"Why were we called? This better be important," Coco said snobbily.

"It is," Cordelia said, approaching Misty and touching her arm. "It is _very_ important."

"Does it have to do with Langdon?" Madison asked.

"Probably," Zoe said, looking at her colleague before looking at Cordelia. "Well, is it?"

"Partially," Cordelia said, taking a sigh and looking at all of her closest witches and the two newbies. "I've called all of you in here to take on a great task, and to make a promise amongst each other, and to me as your Supreme."

"A blood oath?" Coco asked, scowling a bit. " _Hell no_! I'm out!"

As the blonde woman turned on her feet to leave the room, Cordelia was driven to use concilium on her to make her comply.

"Get back here!" Cordelia said firmly, making Coco face her and stop walking away. "Please, listen. This is a major task." Taking another sigh, she began to explain her expectations. "Up until a week ago, Misty was trapped in the underworld for five years. That is a very long time for anyone."

"I'd know," Madison said.

"Yes. All of us have seen it here," Cordelia agreed, "in some form or another. Some of us never attempted descensum, like Mallory and Coco. That is aside my point. My point is, Misty has been such an asset to our coven, a true light among us all. Without her here, things have been pure chaos." Cordelia teared up. "I lost her once, and I will never lose her again."

"Miss Cordelia," Misty said, interjecting and standing in front of her Supreme. "You won't lose me. I'm here. I'm safe. I'm with y'all right now."

"Everyone here must promise to help protect Misty Day from any harm, especially right now. She is in a vulnerable state after being gone for so long, and is in need of healing and protection from all of us."

"I have the white light of spirit," Misty said, confused. "Thank you, but- "

"Oh dear bird," Myrtle began, her antiquated voice filling the room. "Please. Where was that white light when we disintegrated to ash in front of us five years ago? Accept our blessing. I, for one, make my promise."

"Me too," Zoe said.

"Me three," Queenie added.

"I will, whatever it means to protect her," Mallory said with her soft-spoken tone.

"Anything," Cordelia said. "Tomorrow Myrtle has arranged a field trip to the swamps to gather plants for a potioncraft lesson. Misty, knowing this particular area so well, is coming along, and maybe gathering some mud so she can teach the others how to make her poultice. Please… watch her."

"I ain't a child," Misty protested. "Thank you for the concern, but-"

"Alright, fine, I promise," Madison said. "She's a grown woman though."

"Misty, you are very vulnerable," Cordelia said, facing the swamp witch. "Especially right now."

Coco looked around the room and then at Misty, whose curling gold curls framed her face. _She needs a bath_ , she thought to herself.

"Fine," she said reluctantly. "I'll watch Stevie Junior here. But… what is in it for us?"

"A stronger bond," Cordelia interjected. "You all have proven yourself in some way here to be responsible and have each matured. I would not have brought you forth for any other reason."

The witches proceeded to surround themselves around Misty in a circle, holding hands and bestowing their protection upon her even if they were not directly watching her every move. For once in such a long time, she felt like she belonged someplace again, like she knew who she was.


	2. Ch 2 - Seduction

_Chapter 2: Seduction_

"This is Spanish moss… it's got amazin' healin' properties."

Misty was surrounded by some of the students from Miss Robicheaux's Academy the following day to give a lesson on how to make her magic healing mud, a poultice used to heal wounds and burns. The sun was high, and the beams glistened on her tall, statuesque form; her golden curls were radiant, and her white dress and shawl looked absolutely ethereal as she put some of the moss in a jar she brought with her. A few other students gathered some as well, at her instruction.

"How much do we need, Miss Misty?" a student asked.

"Oh, not a whole lot. Maybe a handful," the white witch replied with a smile.

"Did you say there was… _poop_ in this mud recipe?" another novice witch asked.

"Oh yeah, alligator dung."

"Ew!" exclaimed a few students.

"It's nasty, I know," Misty said, standing up and closing the lid on her mason jar in which she put her handful of the soft botanical. "I was burnt 'live a few years ago. This mud helped me. Looked good as new, and still do."

Misty began to walk with the students, Myrtle walking in front of her like a bodyguard, dressed in an eccentric ensemble featuring a black cape over a white polka dot top. On her hands were canary yellow gloves, and her bright red crimped hair extensions blew slightly in the wind that brushed against her wrinkling face.

"I, too, was burnt at stake. Twice," the old witch said, "and Misty's magic poultice helped me regain my appearance. I had lost all of my hair, but luckily, I was buying from Korea for years."

"Extensions?" Mallory, who stood nearby asked. Myrtle nodded.

"They look so real, don't they?"

Mallory nodded slightly in agreement to avoid insulting her elder to her face.

"Where to next, dear bird?" Myrtle asked Misty.

"Mud."

The group of witches went forth on foot to the bank of the swamps nearby, the place where Misty remembered calling home. After she was discovered resurrecting a dead bird at a Pentecostal revival, she was dragged from her home in the night and burnt alive. Through her natural-born power of resurgence, she rose like a phoenix from the literal ashes and it was as though she never died. She hid out in the swamps, spending her days tending to a once-flourishing garden outside her cabin, listening to Stevie Nicks on her boombox, and meditating in the woods. That was until a witch hunter found her in hiding and nearly killed her and a recovering Myrtle at the time. The memories passed through her mind before she snapped out of it and instructed the students to get some mud from the moist, nutrient-rich bank.

"Here," Misty said, leaning down. "This is good stuff."

"All along this bank?" a student asked.

"Yes, go right along."

As Misty stood up from gathering a fair share of mud from her demonstration, she bottled it up and twisted the cap, but looked beyond the water at a very familiar cabin overlooking the swamp. Her eyes were drawn to it like flies to honey, and she found herself wandering closer to the small house; it was her house, still standing, but vacant and abandoned. Carrying her jar of mud and moss, she kept walking as though in a trance until a familiar voice snapped her out of it.

"Misty, my dear. Where are you going?"

The white witch turned around and looked to see Myrtle, standing there in her unusual designer garb looking at her through thick-rimmed cat eye glasses. Her hands were clasped in front of her, looking refined even in a place where it was not necessary.

"Oh…" she said. "I… just want to see something. I-I'll be right back."

"Don't travel too far," the old witch said. "We still need to get that dung you were mentioning."

"I-I know," Misty said with a smile. "I'll be right back."

Myrtle kept her dark blue eyes locked on the young white witch as she walked off on a grass trail leading from the swamp the field trip was taking place. She looked over at Mallory, who was dressed in very similar fashion to Misty; a white sleeveless dress with uneven mesh netting for the skirt, brown calf-high boots, and her trademark celestial jewelry with a gilded leaf headband. The girl's dark brown eyes looked back at her elder, knowing she needed her, and walked toward her.

"Everything okay, Miss Snow?"

"Yes, all fine, dear bird," Myrtle said. "Misty went off to see something on this trail." She pointed at the ground where she first saw Misty begin to walk toward the abandoned cabin on the other side of the swamp. "Do you remember our promise?"

"Oh, yes," Mallory said. "Do you need me to follow close behind her?"

"Please do," Myrtle said, "but please do not make it so obvious. Give the girl some independence."

* * *

Mallory walked diligently on the trail, following the boot prints left by Misty until she saw her, golden curls cascading down her back as she stopped for a minute before walking forward slowly. The novice remained close behind her and observed quietly behind a thick brush. From her perspective, she could see the white witch lean down toward a huge, broken flower pot with soil still spilled out of it. Some of the soil was reclaimed by nature, small sprouts of grass starting to grow from the descending pile. Mallory could hear a sad, nostalgic sigh before she witnessed Misty stand up and walk toward another flower pot, shaking her head.

"My house," she whispered. "My garden."

Mallory felt bad for the poor girl – _but what exactly happened that made her leave her humble abode_ , she thought to herself. Her eyes were fixed on Misty, who examined her old, broken clay flower pots nostalgically before heading toward the ajar front door of the cabin.

From Misty's perspective, the first step into the little cabin she once called home brought it all back to her. Her bright blue eyes started to tear up, looking and seeing the massive bullet holes still in the bed she once slept in, the same bullets that nearly killed her had she not moved from the spot sooner, let alone the possibility of Myrtle not having woken her up from a deep sleep that fateful night. Feathers were blown around the floor, and some were on the small, filthy Persian-esque knockoff rug that was in front of the small table that once housed her beloved boombox. The pieces of the boombox were still shattered on the floor, remnants of a fit of rage one of her resurrected ward had. She leaned down and sighed, picking up the broken keepsake she once treasured before putting it on the bed. She wiped her teary eyes with her shawl.

"My Stevie," she whispered to herself.

On the wall above the table hung an old poster dating from Fleetwood Mac's prime in the 1970s, a psychedelic style of font and art surrounding the White Witch she looked up to so much. Moving a little closer, she looked at the soiled paper and touched the face of the singing lady clad in a black shawl, her mouth near a microphone. She sighed, but then heard footsteps behind her. Turning to look behind her, she was taken aback by the sight of a very familiar young man. He had short, wavy blond hair neatly styled, and he was clad in a black dinner jacket, undershirt, slacks and leather shoes with silver accents near the toes. His eyes were a light, piercing greenish-blue, and his facial structure was quite angelic… yet the feeling Misty got in her chest was far from that.

"Oh…" she gasped.

"Did I scare you?" the young man asked with an eerily amiable tone.

"Y-You're the… one who saved me…" Misty stammered. "W-What are you doin' here?"

"I came to see how you were doing. I hope you've fared well," he replied.

"Your name," she said. "What's it again?"

"Michael," the young man replied suavely. Misty looked down at his hands to see the once-broken boombox fully together again, good as new. Her bright blue eyes looked at him with amazement, yet she could not shake the uncanny, intuitive fear that made her heart pound and vibrate in her chest.

"H-How did you-"

"It's quite easy," he said with a smile, his head and back straight like a prim and proper gentleman. He held out the newly-repaired device toward the swamp witch and smiled, his piercing eyes gleaming to draw her in. "Test it out. See how it works."

Misty shook her head hesitantly, seeing through Michael's calm, demure expression. "I…I can't."

"Why not, Misty?"

Her eyes widened – _he knows my name_ , she thought. "I ain't no fool. I-I got bad vibes. Real bad. I… surround myself with the white light of spirit to protect me."

Michael saw a hint of white light surrounding her aura, but it was not enough to fully shield her like she thought it would. He gave a lighthearted chuckle and watched her open her eyes.

"What makes you think I would do you harm?" Michael asked, concentrating on Misty's mind. She felt the slight invasion, but it overtook her consciousness before she could expel it entirely. He inched closer to her and stared right into her eyes, stroking her cheek. "I saved you. I would never hurt someone I chose to save."

Hypnotized by his intense light blue-green eyes and his masculine, angelic face, she blinked wearily and leaned her cheek into his hand, taking the boombox out of the hand that held it. "I… I guess you're right."

"Good," he said, pleased by her obedience. "Now, go play something on this for me."

Misty backed away and set the boombox on the table where she once kept it years ago when she lived there. Michael took a seat on one of the chairs that was knocked over in the little cabin and watched her lean down to try and work the music player. He saw her thin form through her white maxi dress and matching fringed shawl, and he perked up when he heard her giggle happily at the first few notes of _Rhiannon_.

"It works!" she exclaimed. "It _works_! Oh…" she turned around and looked at him. "Thank you so much!"

"I know how much that meant to you," he said to her.

"It did," she nodded. "It got broken… Kyle, he broke my Stevie. Now I have her back!"

Michael was silent for a few seconds before blurting calmly: "they're using you."

Misty's smile faded slowly to a blank expression, going closer to him and looking down at him as he sat in, coincidentally, the same chair Kyle sat in upon his resurrection, where she applied her magic mud poultice to the wounds he still had at the joints. Kyle was now the butler at Miss Robicheaux's, and still very much in love with Zoe. His claim, however, threw her off. It simply was not true. Everyone at the academy showed her so much sisterly love and acceptance. Cordelia mourned her loss for five straight years. There was no way he was telling the truth.

"No… t-they ain't," Misty said defensively. "They let me stay with them… especially after-"

"After a witch hunter nearly killed you," Michael said, finishing her sentence. "It also happened to be Cordelia's husband."

"But she saw he was bad," Misty corrected. "She tried leavin' him." She shook her head. "Look, what is it you want?"

Michael stood up and met her gaze, circling her slowly as if to size her up. His hands delicately started to play with her golden curls, his nose catching the light, earthy scent of patchouli as he held her from behind and spoke convincingly in her ear.

"Even you felt bad vibes in that house when you first stepped foot into it," he began. "To a degree, you still do. If Cordelia cared so much about you, she would have foreseen your death before even trying to make you attempt Descensum like you did. She _let_ you die."

"W-What do you want?" Misty asked, tearing up but feeling her heart flutter; this time, it was like it had butterfly wings.

"I gave you life," he continued. "Just like I gave to Madison and Queenie. Your Supreme couldn't even do that."

"W-Why don't you wanna talk with _them_ instead? W-Why me?" she whined. "Why are you only nice to _me_?"

"Madison was too brash. Queenie is too big and rough around the edges," he whispered, turning Misty around by the waist to face him, eyes locked. "They both have baggage… but you, my dear," he moved closer, tilted her chin up to look at him, "you are _pure_. You are too _good_ for those other witches, too good for this world, even. I want you. In my moment of exhausting coming back to the mortal coil, I saw nothing but your _light_ and _beauty_ , and I knew I had to have you for myself. You are my opposite, Misty. You compliment me."

"I lost my footin'," Misty said despondently. "I don't know where I am anymore."

"I gave you life, my dear," he whispered. "I can give you… _so much more_."

Suddenly, a voice that didn't belong to either in the cabin broke the mood of the moment: "Misty? What are you doing in here?"

Misty looked to see it was Mallory, whose expression was one of confusion and worry. Before she could say anything at all to her sister witch, she felt Michael's hand wrap over her mouth, and before she knew it, she could feel a burning sensation on her skin. She glanced down and saw the lower half of her body disintegrate into black ash. Mallory watched in horror as the blond-haired handsome stranger, with Misty in hand, turned into ash and disappeared before her very eyes. She let out a shrill scream and ran back to where the students were still having their field trip, waiting on Misty's return to get the alligator dung.

" _AHHHHHHH!_ "

She made it back and collapsed on the grassy terrain, caught by Myrtle and another student witch, who both looked at her with great concern and fright.

"Dear! What is it? What's happened?" Myrtle questioned.

"Misty," Mallory cried. "She's gone! She's _gone_!"

" _Gone_?!" Zoe, who was nearby, ran over to the scene that caught her attention. "What do you mean, gone?!"

"S-She turned into ash! Someone had his hand over her mouth…and they disappeared," Mallory said, starting to cry. "I tried to watch her! I _tried_!"

"Was that the little cabin over there?" Myrtle asked, taking Mallory by the arm and walking along the path with Zoe walking not too far behind them. However, a few student witches started to follow with curiosity, but the young witch behind Myrtle and Mallory enchanted them to stay in their places.

"Stay there," she commanded; and the novice witches did so, not moving another step forward in their direction. Running ahead, she caught up with Mallory and Misty.

"Where were you when you saw it?"

"Right at the doorway," Mallory recalled. "It was wide open. I could see them."

"What did he look like?" Zoe asked.

"He was… uh… blond… tall… actually quite handsome… there was some off about him though," Mallory described.

 _Langdon_ , Zoe thought to herself.

"It was all so sudden," Mallory cried, wiping her eyes.

"I hear music!" Myrtle said, moving faster along the trail with the other two with her. They eventually reached the cabin, and the door was still wide open, as Mallory described. They stepped over the broken, large flower pots, hearing _Gold Dust Woman_ , the next track after _Rhiannon_ on the cassette that played in the boombox. It was toward the end of the song, with heavy drumbeats, guitar string flicking, and soft lyrics by Stevie Nicks.

" _Oooh, pale shadow, of a woman…_

 _Black… widow_ …

 _Ooooh, pale shadow, she's a dragon…_ "

Zoe stepped into the house first, looking around and then glancing down at the floor to see there was no black ash anywhere to be seen. In fact, aside from a chair propped up where Michael had sat and the boombox playing music, there was no sign of any activity, let alone struggle.

Then, the song changed.

"How could this have happened?!" Myrtle shrieked in distress, some tears forming in her eyes.

"Cordelia is not going to be very happy," Zoe said. "We need to gather up the girls over there and get back to the academy before any more go missing."

They fled from the scene, but before Zoe stepped foot from the little cabin, she took the still-playing boombox off the table and walked off with it. However, she had to turn it off to not draw attention.

Before she did, she could hear Stevie singing: " _you said you'd give me light, but you never told me about the fire_."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 _Hello everyone! It's been a solid two years since my last ever story on here, or anywhere for that matter. It's good to be back. I was inspired on a whim to write this story, I absolutely LOVE season 8 so far. I hope you all are enjoying it. Please leave a Review, and be sure to Favorite and Follow me and this story! Stay tuned!_


	3. Ch 3 - Back in the Underworld

_Chapter 3: Back in the Underworld_

Cordelia had been tired enough to take a nap at around two o'clock, resting sideways on one of the white sofas in her office. She had yawned widely before closing her eyes. In no time, she was fast asleep, breathing silently. However, her dream was far from silent.

" _Help me. You gotta save me_ …"

 _It was like Cordelia was walking down a hallway, bats squeaking and flying past her, almost getting tangled in her sleek, clean blonde hair. She held a lantern in front of her from the top handle, looking ahead in the darkness of this strange yet familiar world._

" _Hello?" she called out. She could hear numerous screams and shouts, and the uncanny sound of heavy wind ripping through the air, echoing through what seemed to be a dark chamber. The echoes of heavy, shrill screams from both sexes filled the silent void as she descended deeper._

" _Help! Please!"_

" _Where are you? W-Who is it?" Cordelia asked again out into the void._

" _Miss Cordelia, it's me!" a familiar voice shouted back. "It's me!" She could smell the familiar earthy scent of patchouli, and in the distance, she could see the faint movement of a white fringed shawl and the curling of golden locks._

"Misty _!"_

Her eyes shot open, and she felt her heart drop. She sat up and breathed heavily, tearful from what she saw in her dream. She knew that the witch she treasured so well was missing and in great peril. She heard footsteps down the hall and bolted up from her place on the sofa and opened the closed door. She went forth near the grand staircase, where she saw Mallory crying heavily with a distressed Myrtle and Zoe by her side. Her sweet face was beet red as she sobbed, which only got more intense when she saw Cordelia, who went forward and gathered the young witch in her arms.

"What happened?!" she exclaimed. "Is it Misty?"

"Yes… I tried to protect her… she is gone!" Mallory wept. "I promised to you that I would be one…of us, to protect her, and I failed!"

Cordelia looked down at her, taking a kerchief held out by Myrtle and wiping her eyes. "You need to calm down and tell me _everything_ that happened."

"She was the only one to witness her disappearance," Myrtle chimed in. "Gather yourself, girl."

* * *

Misty really didn't know where she was. This place was dark, depressing and all-too familiar. The faint sounds of shrill screaming filled her ears and gave her the heebie-jeebies. _Thank God I'm not killin' frogs over and over_ , she thought, _but where am I_? She was also no longer under Michael's forceful grasp, hand over her mouth and arm around her arms and torso. Instead, he was holding her hand, leading her to where it was that he had planned to take her away to. They eventually came up to a dark hallway with what looked to be a fire at the very end of it. They got closer, and that was what it was – a large, square fire pit in the center of a darkened hallway. Being raised Christian, this is exactly what Misty was taught what Hell would be like. If that were the case, Michael was the king of it. At the precipice, Michael moved aside and let Misty step foot into the hallway first, immediately following her.

"We're here," he said, delighted as he took in a deep breath through his nose. The smell of earthy patchouli from Misty as well as firewood crackling in the fire pit heightened his senses. However, the look on Misty's face disheartened him.

"Where am I? Where is… everyone?"

"This is paradise, my dear," Michael said, walking in front of her and staring down into her eyes. "At least, compared to the other places in this realm."

"I… wanna go home!" she said, her eyes full of tears. "Please take me back… _please_!"

"That won't be necessary," Michael said, putting his cool, smooth hands on her shoulders. "I gave you life, and I wish to give you way more."

"There ain't nothin' you can possible give me except for my life back," Misty whined. " _Above_ this place!"

Misty, distraught and sick to her stomach from anxiety at what happened, charged at the precipice of the long, void-like hallway to try and leave.

"No one will hear you," Michael said calmly. "No one will hear you scream over the many souls already screaming down here."

"NO!" Misty screamed. "CORDELIA! HELP!"

"She could not even save you," Michael reminded her, going near her in the dark void and holding her hand. She smacked it away from her and grunted.

"Don't touch me!"

"I am your only chance at leaving, if I _let_ you leave," the handsome blond man said to her. "I highly suggest you cooperate with me and stay here."

"I don't wanna," Misty cried, going back into the wide hallway with the fire pit, Michael standing there. She collapsed to her knees and held her shawl close to her face, sobbing into the cool, refreshing fabric. Michael was not one for strong, let alone sympathetic feelings, but he felt bad that Misty was so sad being away from Miss Robicheaux's. He leaned down and tried to console the white witch, who's sobbing filled the room and possibly the entire void they descended. He procured a handkerchief from his sleeve and lifted her chin up to meet his gaze, and he lulled her quiet.

"Shh," he cooed as he wiped the tears from her eyes. "I know this is a lot, my dear. Trust me, I have only the best intentions with you. I want to give you anything you want as you spend time down here."

He helped her to her feet, and she stumbled a bit. After all, she could barely catch her breath sobbing so much, so she was lightheaded.

"Maybe it's time for you to get some rest," he suggested. "You've had a long trip after all."

* * *

Mallory sat in front of Cordelia's desk, along with Myrtle at the chair next to her, and Zoe stood up behind Cordelia. Also present were Madison, Queenie, and Coco, who took seats on the upholstered chairs and sofas nearby in the room. It was an hour after they got home from the suddenly-ceased field trip to the swamps, and Mallory had time to compose herself. She adjusted her gilded leaf headband and sniffled a bit, looking at her Supreme.

"So you were tasked by Myrtle to follow close behind Misty when she went off to explore her old home?" she asked.

"Yes, and I did," Mallory replied. "Everything seemed normal until she went into the house. When she did, I hung around outside. I didn't think anything was wrong until I went to check inside."

"What the hell were you doing outside?" Coco retorted. "Tiptoeing through the tulips? Why didn't you just go in with her and look at her old shack together?!"

"Coco, please," Myrtle said with annoyance at her attitude. "Calm down. We are all trying to figure this out. Let her speak, if you will." Coco responded by crossing her arms and taking a huffy breath.

"When did you decide to go in and check things out?" Zoe asked.

"I noticed she took too long," Mallory said. "It was maybe 20 minutes."

"What did you see when you went in?"

"I… saw a tall blond man, quite handsome actually… in a black suit… he was looking at her like… he wanted her… in that way," Mallory explained. "His vibes were _really_ bad."

"What happened next?" Cordelia asked, her dark eyes looking at the novice.

"Then… b-before she could say anything, she turned into black ash. He… grabbed her. He had his hand over her mouth, other arm wrapped around her arms and chest so she couldn't wiggle away, and they… turned to ash… we went back and noticed that there was no black ash to be seen," she answered.

"There wasn't," Zoe said. "I can verify that. I walked in first, and there was not even a sign of a struggle or anything. But… I did find this."

Zoe went a bit closer to Cordelia's desk and got Misty's boombox, picking it up to show everyone in the room.

"Even touching this gives me the creeps," Zoe said. "I think I know who did it."

"Me too," Cordelia said. "As soon as you all walked back in, I had woken up from a dream."

"A dream?" Myrtle asked.

"Yes."

"Do you remember it?"

"Yes… I was going down this long hallway… a void," Cordelia described, "and I heard screaming and bats were flying around. It was… hellish."

"Hellish? D-Did you see anything?" Queenie asked, speaking up and inquiring about Misty's disappearance. "Did you go into Descensum in your sleep?"

"I-I'm not sure, but I do know, I saw a figure," Cordelia said, starting to tear up. "Misty was wearing white today. A dress and a shawl… and I saw a hint of her. She was…begging for help…"

Everyone looked at their Supreme as she broke down crying in front of them. Zoe inched forward and patted her back to provide some consolation, but it did no good.

"I dread losing her…" she whined, her voice cracking. "I lost her once before…"

"T-There must be _some_ way to get her back," Mallory said.

"It isn't that simple dear," Myrtle replied.

"Michael was the one who brought her back… I-I know he has her… I don't know why he took her back… that poor girl…" Cordelia cried. "That is something even _I_ can't do. I can descend but I cannot take a soul back… and that sounds like that is what he did with her."

"So she's trapped in Hell _again_?" Madison asked incredulously.

"I wonder if the boy has some agenda," Myrtle inquired, "keeping that innocent girl kept in Hell with him. He passed all of the Seven Wonders before our eyes, and I wonder if he is-"

"Don't rub it in," Cordelia said sadly, still crying as she wiped her eyes on a tissue. "I suspect that myself." She sniffled and felt her heart racing with anger and frustration. "We need to get Misty out of there."

"Do you think the Hawthorn warlocks are behind it all?" Queenie asked.

"I am not sure… but we are going to find out."

* * *

Myrtle had booked a flight to California to once again visit the Hawthorn School for Exceptional Young Men, and it was set to leave the following night as it was the soonest flight available. Flying first class, she, Cordelia, Zoe, Queenie, and Madison made it there safely, settled into their hotel room. They were able to order exquisite room service to get food before calling a meeting with the Chancellor, Ariel Augustus, as well as the rest of the council at Hawthorn. The meal consisted of champagne, lobster bisque, hot rolls, and a Glover salad. They hired a chauffeur from a private company to drive them to the property on which stood the weird spiral structure that led into the school underground. However, the now-three members of the council stood outside in black finery to greet them before they could even think to enter. The most noticeable was Ariel, a black fedora topping his bald head and a seemingly-heavy black cloak with red lining and an elaborate silver brooch to hold it together. To his left was Chablis Behold, a tall African-American man with a prominent black fabric flower corsage and green gem in the center of an equal-armed cross pin. To his right was the demure and shy Baldwin Pennypacker, who large, black-rimmed glasses framed his smiling, polite eyes, his hands clasped in front of him to graciously accept their guests once again.

"Good afternoon ladies," Ariel said in his light Spanish accent. "I welcome you once again. So…" He took a sip of his glass of water from the table at which they gathered – the warlocks were on one side of the long table, and the witches on the other, Cordelia in the middle of them to signify her authority over them, "why have we gathered _this_ time?"

"I'll cut to the chase," Cordelia said, clearly not happy. "Michael has taken Misty Day."

Baldwin and Behold's eyes widened in shock, looking at their Chancellor – "it can't be!" the demure man with glasses said.

"How do you know for sure, Miss Cordelia?" Behold asked insistently, his effeminate lisp heard throughout the hall.

"We had a meeting after some of our girls returned to the school from a field trip," Cordelia said.

"Yes, one of our dear girls, Mallory," Myrtle began, recalling her testimony, "witnessed her in the arms of this… _tall_ , _handsome_ stranger before they disintegrated to ash. The horror!"

"When we went to investigate ourselves," Zoe chimed in, "there was no ash, or any sign of a struggle."

"I don't want to accuse you of being behind it, but I suspect you are, enough to do so," the Supreme said outright. "Where is Misty? What has he done to her?"

"How _dare_ you?!" Ariel lashed, his voice hissing like a serpent.

" _Preposterous_! How dare you accuse us of being a part of her disappearance?!" Behold exclaimed. "I saw Michael myself! There was no woman, let alone _Misty_ , with him!"

"SHE'S IN HELL AGAIN!" Cordelia shouted. " _HE TOOK HER DOWN THERE_! She isn't _up here_ in the mortal coil!" She had to swallow the tears that were about to deluge in her dark eyes. "I lost her once, and I refuse to lose her again!"

"Wait!" Baldwin said, standing up and trying to peacefully mediate the madness in the room. "Miss Cordelia, what makes you think it was Michael, when it was he who returned her?"

Cordelia had that thought cross her mind briefly during all of this, but she, as well as the rest of her witches, knew that there was a hidden agenda afoot. If the Supreme lost one of her most valued and prized witches, then it would make her powerless, and thus allowing someone as vibrationally unscrupulous and malevolent as Michael to take over the supremacy.

"We can summon him here right now," Ariel declared, "so you can see he is _indeed_ up here, in the mortal coil, and not in some… _nether_ realm."

"I'll get him," Baldwin offered, getting up from his seat and telekinetically sliding the doors open. However, he gasped at the sight before him – Michael was standing there at full attention, somewhat taken aback from the fact he was discovered, likely eavesdropping. Baldwin offered the young man a smile and nodded.

"Uh, _Michael_! Just who I wanted to see," he said, gesturing a hand out. Michael stepped into the room and looked at the witches one by one – Queenie, Madison, Cordelia, Myrtle, and lastly, Zoe. "Well… we, as you can see."

"Weren't you just here?" the young man asked, putting his hands behind his back.

Cordelia wanted to just break off his arms and send him up the elevator chute to the terrain above. It took all of her might, all of her power to stop herself from launching him across the room against the many bookshelves lining the walls.

"We were, yes," Myrtle said, standing up; she knew if she let Cordelia up, she'd try to hurt him severely. "We know you have Misty Day. Fess up, boy!"

"What makes you think I would do anything to her?" Michael asked, an eerie calmness to his voice. "What makes you assume outright I would go through the trouble of sending her back to Hell, when I went through so much to bring her back?"

"He's trying to confuse you," Myrtle whispered to Cordelia.

"He is not," Ariel said, standing his ground and hearing her utterance. "Michael?"

Having caught his attention, his piercing blue-green eyes met his superior's. "Yes?"

"Please… tell us the truth," he instructed. "Did you take Misty back to those godforsaken nether realms?"

Michael was quiet for a moment before answering: "no."

"I told you," Behold said, pointing his finger flamboyantly. "Preposterous accusations, ladies! Maybe next time, we shouldn't assemble any council when you ask. You're just jealous because you're in the process of being _replaced_."

"We are looking after our own," Cordelia said, "and I for one don't believe you _or_ Michael. It makes me question if you are at all appropriate to take my place after I'm gone."

"I wouldn't have passed the tests you gave me if otherwise," Michael snided. "I did not touch that girl."

"That doesn't mean-"

"ENOUGH!" Ariel exclaimed, smacking the table with his palm. "Michael did not do anything to Misty. You're just afraid of losing your crown and glory, Cordelia. Stop accusing us for everything going wrong for you. Perhaps you should take _better care_ of your own before you go accusing people of things they didn't do." He stood up. "I declare this council over and dismissed!"

All of the witches stood up on the other side of the table, and Cordelia was on the verge of tears, her anger and frustration was so intense. They all gathered around their Supreme as they made their way out of the room. However, Myrtle stopped near Ariel and whispered near his ear: "you know what is really going on. Woe be unto you all until Misty returns."

* * *

All four men, Michael included, saw to it that the witches have left Hawthorn to the ground above before they decided to meet on some parting thoughts regarding the situation. They went back into the room, and Ariel reignited the fireplace with his pyrokinesis before sitting down. Behold and Baldwin stood and looked at Michael, who telekinetically closed the sliding doors before Ariel caught his attention by clearing his throat.

"Michael," he said. "May I ask you something?"

He turned around and smiled, inhaling through his nostrils a deep breath. "Yes?"

"They know something," Ariel said. "Where did you put Misty?"

"Let's just say she isn't dissecting frogs," the young man replied.

"But where is she?" his superior asked once again. "Is she suffering?"

"No," Michael said. "I would _never_ make that girl suffer. She is… much too beautiful and pure to endure any more than she already has. In fact, the realm down in the underworld where I put her is uncannily like this school."

"Is she your Princess Peach, Bowser?" Behold asked jokingly.

"She is my princess, and she will _be_ my princess for as long as I want her to be," Michael said. "I don't want to let her go."

"Please make sure her basic needs are met," Ariel insisted with annoyance. "You saw how ravenous that girl was when you brought her back."

"I offered her some cake and milk last night," the young man revealed, "but she refused to eat. She was so sad. It… actually _hurt_ me to see her sad."

"You're not one for…" Baldwin began.

"What?" Michael cut in, his eyes cutting into his superior like daggers.

"Uh… strong emotions," the man with glasses finished with a coy smile.

"I believe I love her," Michael said dreamily, deep in thought of Misty's white maxi dress and shawl, her golden curls, ethereal face, and bright blue eyes. "She is… the opposite of me. She is so beautiful and pure. She is a shining light to behold." He sighed. "She compliments me. She is too good for this world."

"Well, go and tend to her," Ariel said. "We can't keep her in Hell for very long, though. At least a few more months."

"Perhaps for the whole winter," Michael suggested.

"Cordelia will be biting our heads off by that point," Ariel said, shaking his head. "We have to think of something. If she comes back to the mortal coil so soon, it'll make us look very suspicious."

"Even you said," Behold mentioned, "she _knows_ something is amiss, and we are partially responsible. Though it was your idea, Michael. We only went with you on it. You passed all the Seven Wonders and you're her heir, after all. We'll be bowing to _you_ one day."

"I'll be in Descensum for a bit," Michael said. "I may give her a gift to console her."

"A gift?" Baldwin asked. "What is it?"

"Oh, it's down there," Michael replied. "I will tell you when I've come back."

The young man left the room slowly and walked up the spiral staircase to head up to the bedroom he shared with another warlock. He took off his leather shoes and black dinner jacket, getting comfortable on his bed. Looking around, he saw he was the only one in the room, with the fireplace going and a few candles lit for illumination. He took a deep breath, relaxing all of his muscles and closing his eyes, saying once, aloud and clear:

" _Spiritu duce, in me est._

 _Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum,_

 _ut salutaret inferi_ …"

After one more deep breath, he was off: " _descensum_!"

* * *

 **A/N:**

 _Things are getting really heated! This is intended to be a short story (5 chapters or so), but I'm having so much fun writing again, I may just end up adding another chapter or two. Thanks to all of you who are appreciating and reading my work, and for the great reviews! I appreciate you all!_

 _Follow and Favorite if you like! Stay tuned for what happens next, especially since our warlocks are getting involved._


	4. Ch 4 - Consolation

_Chapter 4: Consolation_

Michael descended into the underworld and floated through the black void in which he travelled with Misty. He heard the familiar sounds of screaming and suffering that were in some parts of the nether realms, and the bats flew past him with their little squeaks and fragile wings flapping about. He smiled, his heart fluttering lightly as he came near the precipice of the great hall very similar to the main lobby of the Hawthorne school. The fire was flickering the square firepit, and he used his pyrokinesis to make the flames rise higher to signal his return. Once he stepped in, Misty was no where to be found. _She's still resting_ , he thought to himself. In his mind's eye, a vision formulated of her whereabouts in this part of the underworld. He could hear faint singing and light sobbing. Soon, the sound became clearer, as if he was actually hearing it. He followed the sound to the source, and it was the same closed door to the room he had shown her that would serve as their bedroom.

" _I saw my reflection…_

 _in the…snow covered hills…_ "

Michael drew nearer, hearing the sorrow and longing in Misty's singing. It also sounded ghostly, echoing softly through the realm. As a matter of fact, it was better than hearing shrill screams in the void.

" _Til the landslide brought me down…_ "

His heart broke again to hear her break out into crying again, sniffling and struggling to gain her composure.

" _Well, I've been… afraid of… changin'… 'cause I…_ "

He tried to be quiet opening the closed door, turning the knob and stepping in to find Misty, still in her white maxi dress, wrapping herself in her shawl to comfort herself while she was captive in this miserable realm of existence. Her back was to the door, her golden curls matted and glossy from not having been washed in a few days. Her boots, however, were off and resting on the floor in front of Michael as he stepped in. She stopped singing, and curled up even tighter in her fetal position, sobbing uncontrollably. The man tried to be undetected as he reached into the side drawer and pulled out a jewelry box, opening it slightly to see the contents inside before he sat on the bed closest to the door. He had the box on his lap as he leaned to gently shake the swamp witch.

"Shh… Misty, my darling," he whispered. "I've come back."

She was unresponsive, but not sobbing anymore. He could hear her sniffling. He continued to speak to her, however.

"I… have a gift for you," he said. "Please… turn to face me."

Misty did more than that, though, and on her own. Michael didn't need to use mind control. She wiped her eyes on her shawl and sniffled, but still looked down. _I'll fix that_ , he thought as he tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. His lips turned to a closed mouth smile, but Misty was not amused in the slightest.

"Much better," he sighed. "Wipe those beautiful eyes."

He used his fingertip to wipe any tears she missed, and she remained silent. His fingers gently brushed her cheek before he reached down to his lap and procured the velvet jewelry box containing her gift. Misty looked down at it in confusion.

"I…I didn't know they had jewelry in hell," she said in her light Southern twang.

"Oh," Michael said with a chuckle. "I can give you anything you want. I can give you anything _I_ want to give you as well. The underworld is full of riches that people up on earth can only dream of."

She looked down at the box, and he faced it open toward her, and what was contained within caught her interest greatly. It was a pendant on a chain; nothing too extravagant save for the bright malachite green color in the gemstone. It seemed to have a mystical glow emanating from it, and Michael could even see the glow in the reflections of her eyes, and it seemed to blink after a little bit. He saw the first smile on her face the entire time so far being with him.

"There's a smile," he said. "Allow me…"

He took the necklace from the box, but Misty protested coyly: "I…I can't accept that."

"Why not?" he asked. "It _is_ for you, after all."

"H-How much… do you mind if… I ask…"

"No need to ask," he said. "Don't worry about it."

Misty nodded and turned around, accepting his gift. She moved her hair to the side and he slowly worked the chain around the front of her neck, clasping the back. He was so tempted to press his lips on the part of her skin the clasp rested against, but he fought the temptation. Instead, he had her turn to face him, so he could see how it looked on her. It was radiant, and still continued to glow like a verdant ember.

"Radiant," he whispered.

"T-Thank you," Misty said, looking down at the pendant in a single glance. "It's beautiful."

"I also want to show you something," he said. He stood up from the bed and looked down at Misty, whose bright blue eyes were full of curiosity. "Please, come with me."

He extended his hand, and with hers shaking, she took it, sighing as he guided her to stand up from the bed. She did, and let him take the lead out of the room and down one of the narrow hallways leading to a study-like room with bookshelves lining the walls. Past this was what appeared to be a bathroom with a large, square bathtub filled with sweet-smelling suds and warm water. On the side of the door leading into it was a hanging rack, on which there was a silk short-sleeve vintage dress with colorful embroidery on the neckline, a pair of silk stockings, and a pair of mules with kitten heels that matched the dress beautifully. Misty's attention was first caught by the outfit, and she reached to feel the fabric. The silk was luxurious; silk wasn't something she was particularly used to, but this felt very nice.

"This is cute," she said under her breath.

"I knew you'd like it," Michael said. "That's why I picked it out for you to wear."

"B-But my shawl… my clothes…"

"I won't take them from you," he said kindly. "They are yours."

"I-Is this bath for me?" she asked naively.

"Yes," he said. "I knew it would help you relax and take some stress off you." He went over to the tub and waded his hand in the water to feel the temperature. "You may want to get in before it cools down even more."

"I… ain't gonna take a bath with you in here," Misty responded, her cheeks blushing. "Can I have privacy?"

Michael moved closer to her, unlacing the front of her dress with ease to get her started; "your wish is my command."

He left the room, and she wasted no time getting out of her clothes. Once she was naked, she stepped into the rich sweet suds floating in the tub and sat down. The warmth eased her muscles fully and she sighed, leaning her head back on the tile wall. The scent in the room was intoxicating, enough for her to see flowers growing in front of her, all around outside of the bathtub walls. Misty smiled euphorically and giggled, looking and seeing the greenery sprout up around her. To her right were shocking white lilies of the valley, larkspurs to her right paired with thorny red roses, and toward her feet was a single narcissus that sparkled luminously. Misty was enchanted by the hallucination, leaning over to touch the flower's captivating petals. However, a bumblebee started to formulate in the air, and it caught her attention. She could hear it buzzing, along with a fairy-like jingle as the plant sparkled.

 _Bzzz_ …. _bzzzz_ …

"What _is_ this?" she asked herself.

She took her hand away from the narcissus and had an idea. _This can't be real_ , she thought, _this is Hell, flowers don't grow down here_. The bee still buzzed around her head, but when she acted on her idea, it seemed to fade away. She held her nose and submerged the top half of her body in the tub, shutting her eyes and hearing the fluid swishing near her ears. She took a few moments and came back up for air, gasping and seeing the flowers, the bee, and the glowing narcissus were all gone. She sighed with disappointment and continued to clean herself up, washing her hair and body. When she finished, she got out and let the water sink down the drain. She found a towel and dried herself off entirely. Walking over to the outfit Michael selected for her, she examined the luxurious silk and the floral embroidery, feeling the smooth weave. When she was ready, she put on the dress, the stockings, and slid on the mules that matched. She was still wearing the necklace, which glowed a bright green hue against her skin.

Misty walked out of the bathroom and took a deep breath, exhaling before she went out to walk around. This place was so dark and gloomy, yet also quite homey. In a weird way, it reminded her of a cozy lodge during the autumn season, the smell of sweet firewood burning throughout the halls. She looked above her to see very modern-styled chandeliers, also providing light. She heard a familiar song start to play, the beginning jingle catching her attention enough to follow the sound. She walked down the hall and started to hum… and then sing along:

" _Wait a minute baby…_

 _Stay with me a while_ …"

She reached what looked to be a dining room, and before she could look at the massive meal set out on the table for her and Michael to share, she sang the next line along with the music, which was playing in the room:

" _You said you'd give me light,_

 _But you never told me 'bout the fire_ …"

Her eyes widened at the sight of Michael at the head of the table, drinking what looked like wine from a silver goblet. In front of him was a roast honey ham with pineapple pinned to the glazed skin with toothpicks, hot cross buns, fresh snapped peas, carrot slices, butternut squash, pumpkin and pomegranate seeds in a very strange mixture as a finger food, and a large serving dish of what looked to be casserole. She was taken aback, and she certainly did not have an appetite at all. Her stomach actually felt sick; sick with the worry and thought of Cordelia going crazy above ground now that she, her beloved swamp witch, was missing.

"Ah, how was your bath, dear?" Michael asked. "May I offer you something to eat?"

"Uh… it was nice," Misty replied politely, "but…"

He saw her shake her head, and he stood up to meet her gaze, walking over to her: "what's the matter? Is nothing to your liking? I could change a few things, if you want me to."

"No, no…" Misty replied, "I just… ain't hungry."

"You'll get weak, my love," Michael said, caressing her face softly, "but… perhaps something else is in order, then."

"W-What would that be?" she asked him, eyeing him suspiciously. He took her hand and led her to what looked to be an empty, plain wall. Yet she was met with shock as Michael telekinetically destroyed the outer surface, holding out his hand to channel his power and might into revealing a black reflective surface. The wall crackled slowly and fell down at their feet, making a mess. Her eyes were wide, and she looked back at him.

"W-What is this?" she asked.

"A black mirror," Michael said with a smile, "with which to scry into other realms and receive visions."

"Visions?" Misty questioned.

"Yes, my dear," he said, "take a look into it. What do you see?"

She tried to peer through the black reflective surface, but saw nothing but the mirror itself and a faint reflection of she and Michael. However, his face was slightly whiter and his eyes were black.

"I… don't see much," she replied. "But your _face_ … you look different."

"Do not be disturbed by my _true form_ ," Michael replied encouragingly. "Look closer, feel it in your core. What do you see?"

 _I want to see my friends and Miss Cordelia_ , she thought to herself, very sure Michael was reading every single thought. Then, it was like the mirror spiraled in the center, distorting and becoming a window of sorts into another world. This world was only slightly brighter; it was near sunrise, but the sky was a cloudy gray and raindrops fell mercilessly. Cordelia was up early, having Earl Gray and sitting at her desk with what looked to be a crystal ball resting in front of her. Misty could see her Supreme start to cry, saddened and distressed once again at her disappearance.

"I see…" Misty began quietly.

"What do you see, my dear?" Michael asked.

"Cordelia," she said sadly, tears nearly falling from her eyes.

"What is your Supreme doing?" he cooed, whispering in her ear as he held her from behind seductively, his hands gently grazing her hips and abdomen over the silk dress he gifted her. As if in a trance, she answered him, eyes locked on the vision in the black mirror.

"Drinkin' tea… she's got a crystal ball… she's…"

"What is she doing, my dear?" he cooed once again, sliding a hand up the side of her dress and barely caressing the part of her leg not covered by the silk stockings. Misty's heart rate increased, and her light skin began to flush pink from what Michael was doing to her. His other hand moved higher to just below her small bosom, and he could feel her heart like a butterfly under his palm.

"She's looking for _me_ …" she whined softly. "But…"

"But… _what_?" Michael asked softly, breathing against her neck. Misty could feel a foreign heat forming between her legs, and her whole body shook with anticipation, letting her words flow out as smooth as cream.

"She can't."

Michael inhaled the intoxicating scent from her neck and soft golden curls, now clean and fresh from her bath. He could almost feel a bulge rising in his pants, but he needed to control his demonic, primal urges. _She's a virgin_ , he thought to himself, _I can feel it. I cannot take her yet. She is too good, too pure… I want her to stay that way. I may never take her. I don't know if I could bear it._ He nevertheless turned her around by the waist, and as if under a spell, her bright blue eyes looked up at his piercing blue-green ones, and he smiled down at her.

"Would you like for her to see you, dear?" he asked.

"Yes… _yes_!" Misty said pleadingly. "Oh _please_ , Michael. _Please_ let her see me. I want her to know I am _okay_ and I am _safe_!"

"As you wish."

Michael took his left palm and, with his other hand on Misty's waist, he took away the distortion present on the surface, starting from the bottom, working his way to the top. To Misty, it was like he was pulling up a window shade, as if to remove the obstruction in front of the only window that separated their worlds. Then, it was like the vision Misty had became so much clearer, and Michael stood off to the side to not be seen by Cordelia, who seemed to be smiling into the crystal ball. Misty smiled and waved at her Supreme through the mirror.

"Hi! Miss Cordelia!" she said.

She could see her mouthing words into the crystal ball and tearing up happily, putting a hand to her heart as if she were relieved.

"I am safe! I am okay! I'm unharmed!" Misty said happily, giving a twirl in front of the mirror. "Like my new dress? It's all silk."

Cordelia seemed to smile even more in her vision, nodding and mouthing more words. Again, Misty could not hear her. She went by sheer intuition as to how she really felt behind that mirror.

"He is takin' _very_ good care of me, Miss Cordelia," Misty said smiling, looking over at Michael, who then took the liberty to step into view. Then, it was like Cordelia's smile faded to a glum, sullen look of resentment and anger.

"Now, my dear," Michael said to Misty, "you can see Miss Cordelia whenever you want."

"Does this mean… I'll never be up with her again?" Misty asked worriedly.

"Are you happy with me down here?" Michael questioned, staring down into her eyes.

Misty thought for a moment; "I-I do feel a little different than I did when I first came."

"As do I."

"You do?"

"Yes…" Michael began, "it's almost like a part of me that never existed has been born. A part of me that feels true tenderness for a human being, of all things."

He caressed her face softly and smiled, turning her to face him and tilting her chin up to stare into her bright eyes before leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. Misty did not even bother fighting it – his lips were cool, yet smooth, yet it was like primordial fire danced on his lips. He wrapped his arms lightly around her waist, and her hands rested on his shoulders as he picked her up in the kiss, spinning her around. When he put her down, he broke the kiss, looked down into her eyes for a few moments, and without hesitating, he leaned to kiss her neck. Misty felt like she was on the verge of fainting, nearly collapsing before he picked her up bridal style and away from the mirror, out of the room, and out of Cordelia's view.

* * *

"Oh my god…" Cordelia said tearfully.

Myrtle, who had just gotten ready for the day, was dressed in a navy-blue vintage designer dress and stepped into Cordelia's bedroom, hearing her Supreme crying. She saw the crystal ball on the table and pulled a chair up near her daughter-figure, patting her shoulder in consolation.

"What do you see, dear bird?" the old witch asked.

Through heavy, sorrowful sobs, Cordelia managed to get out: "s-she is with him… s-she is happy… s-she won't l-leave him n-n-now…"

"What makes you believe that? Misty is one of our own," Myrtle said.

"I know what I saw, Myrtle," the blonde Supreme said, sitting up and wiping her eyes with the kerchief Myrtle extended to her for her use. "She was standing in the underworld, a large table with food behind her… I-I hope she hasn't eaten any…"

"Like Persephone from the Greek myths, she would be bound to Hades forever," Myrtle said metaphorically, alluding to the strange disappearance of their beloved sister witch.

"She was dressed in all silk… beautiful dress…" Cordelia continued, "and then… Michael came into full view. I was so happy to see she was safe, but she is _not_ safe with him, Myrtle."

"Let the girl go for a bit," the old witch's advice was. "Just for a bit. I am sure he will need to release her up here at some point or another."

"No! _No way_!" Cordelia protested. "I lost her once, and I refuse to lose her again."

"Delia, life is too short," her mother-figure told her frankly, her voice dancing eloquently as she continued; "you have other witches who _desperately_ need your attention. Sweet Mallory's powers are growing, that snobbish wench Coco needs an attitude adjustment, and your council need your wisdom and structure. They all need you. We even have a few new students coming within the next month who submitted their applications. They cannot see their Supreme preoccupied. They need to see her at her strongest and most potent…" She lifted Cordelia's chin up comfortingly, "with a smile on her face."

"S-She is so _lost_ ," the Supreme replied, crying again. "She told me herself when Michael brought her back. She even said to me he reeked of death. W-Why? I don't understand… w-why is she with him… and w-why is she h-happy?"

"We know that boy is up to no good," Myrtle said. "But Misty is a grown woman… I am sure he will smarten up and realize she is better off up here."

"Unless we think of a plan," Cordelia suggested, standing up and pacing near the table where her teacup and crystal ball rested. "One of us needs to go down there and get her out of there."

"You couldn't even save her. What makes you think you can do it successfully now? Or even one of our girls?" Myrtle challenged.

"I won't put them at risk," Cordelia said. "But maybe it is the case that I cannot return her here, still. I am not Michael, but perhaps we can make a deal."

"A deal? With _him_?"

"Yes, to buy us some time. A contract, maybe. Something!" Cordelia stated. "I don't know… maybe we should call the council and see what they say."

"Good thinking. I'll postpone the evening gathering so that this can take place," Myrtle said. "Don't fret, dear."

* * *

That evening, Cordelia and Myrtle stood before Zoe, Queenie, and Madison in the ancestry room as scheduled for their meeting to bounce ideas off each other regarding Misty being in Michael's hellish custody. The Supreme had to keep from breaking down in front of everyone like she had since Misty was taken from them. Struggling to keep her composure, she began to speak.

"Thanks everyone for being here," she said. "I… was able to peer into the underworld to see where Misty was being kept."

"What'd you see?" Zoe asked, leaning forward and listening attentively.

"I saw her… she looked and seemed happy… she told me she was doing alright, and she was not harmed," the Supreme said. "She was dressed in black silk… like none I'd ever seen before. She was waving at me… and then Michael stepped into view… and they…"

"They what?"

"T-They kissed right in front of me…" Cordelia said tearfully, wiping her eyes, "and he carried her away from… whatever they were using to see into this world, our world."

"So… she's _happy_?" Madison asked with confusion. "Why not leave her?"

"We can't leave her down there," Cordelia protested. "I won't allow it a minute more."

"Misty is one of us," Zoe said. "Cordelia asked Michael to bring you, Queenie and Misty back from hell for a reason."

"But if she's happy, why ruin that for her?" Madison asked. "Hell, let her eat and dress grandly. Give the girl something to look forward to."

"She _must_ miss us," Cordelia said. "I don't understand. Why would she kiss him like that?"

Queenie, who had sat silent for most of the time, came up with a crazy idea. Descensum was one of her specialties, and though it was a dangerous feat for most witches, she was able to do it several times and make it back alive. Her voice and notion broke the room's chatter.

"I volunteer to go down there," she said.

Jaws dropped, and Cordelia gasped; "no… no way! I won't let you get hurt."

"I won't get hurt," the obese African-American woman stated confidently, standing up and walking toward her as if to challenge her. "I've gone to hell even before I passed it in the Seven Wonders a few years ago. I spent a while dead with the most boring white people in the Cortez… so I think I can handle going down to do _something_ to bring Misty back."

"Are you certain?" Myrtle asked Queenie, who nodded, biting her lip.

"Yes."

"You haven't brought a soul back from the underworld," Cordelia said, holding her sister witch's hand. "Are you _sure_ you want to attempt this?"

"Positive," Queenie said. "It's the only way at this point. You want Misty back, don't you?"

"Well, if you're going to," Zoe said, standing up, "we better plan _when_. We should take a look into the underworld and see how things are before you go down. You don't want to make him mad."

Cordelia thought for a moment and sighed – "the full moon is in three days time. You will do it then. Before you descend you'll be anointed."

"Why?" Queenie asked with incredulity. "I can do this on my own. I've done it so many times. I don't need to be 'anointed', Cordelia." She took a breath and nodded. "I am going down into hell at the rise of the full moon, anointed or not. I can do this."

The room was struck silent, and Queenie looked over to see that there was the crystal ball sitting on the coffee table. She took a seat and started to peer into it, closing her eyes and waving her hand over the surface.

"Please… tell me how she is doing," Cordelia said, "can you see anything?"

"I'm working on it," Queenie said, gazing into the crystal to see into the world below theirs…

* * *

Michael's eyes jolted open from his slumber and he sat up. He was wearing nothing under the sheets that also covered Misty, who was dressed in simple undergarments, sleeping on her side restfully. He turned over to look at her sleeping face, gently caressing her diamond jawline before he stood up and put on a black silk bathrobe. His intuition called for him to go to the black mirror, the only window to the mortal coil in this part of the underworld. He walked to the dining room and toward the reflective black surface, making the same gesture he did before when with Misty to clear it for viewing from both sides. He gasped to see the large, wide face of Queenie in a circle.

"Queenie," he said with a chuckle and a smile. "What a surprise."

"Michael, hey," she said nervously. "Uh… can I talk to you?"

"Why sure! Go ahead!" he said with an eerie friendliness.

"Okay so, we know you have Misty. Cordelia is not happy with you just taking her off like that," the witch said. "It's pretty rude to just take someone back to hell when you went through all the trouble of resurrecting her."

Michael took a sigh in through his nose like he usually did and smiled; "she is free to go whenever she wants, but I'll have you know, she is happy down here with me."

"What did you do to her?" Queenie asked.

"Nothing," Michael chuckled; there was humanlike charm to his humor right then. "Nothing except treat her like an absolute _queen_ , like she deserves to be. I gave her a lovely silk dress, I conjured a nice dinner for her, which she wasn't hungry for, and I gifted her a glowing malachite pendant. I play Stevie Nicks for her every chance I get, and it gives me… such joy, to see her twirling about, happy as a clam."

"You took me and Madison back to the mortal coil," she asked him through the crystal ball. "Why didn't you pick one of us? Why did it _have_ to be Misty?"

Michael shook his head and inhaled through his nose again; "because you are not my type. You're too rough around the edges. Too assertive. Madison is just hungry for dick and lacks _any_ sort of humility… whereas Misty… she is not any of those things. She is good. She is _pure_. She is too good even for me, but she brings out the humanity in me."

Queenie sat and listened to him through the black mirror, on her crystal ball on the other side. Michael just continued.

"I knew when I saw her in the mortal coil, bringing her back, I had to have her. I had to keep her. Her light was overwhelming. I love Misty, and I will see to it she becomes my bride."

"You can't! We won't let you!" Queenie shouted. "Don't make me come down there!"

"Or what?" Michael asked. "You should be more scared if _I_ come up _there_. So… leave us alone. If Misty wants to return by her free will, then she may."

With that, Michael reversed the gesture he did on the black mirror and sighed, shaking his head. How dare these bitches ruin his one chance at happiness besides being Supreme in Cordelia's place one day? _I'm the son of Satan himself_ , he thought, _I am the king of Hell. Misty is soon to be my queen. I can't let them stop me. I need to act fast. Misty is mine._

Michael knew that since as far back as the Greeks, if a soul ventured to the underworld and ate or drank anything given to them, they would be bound to that plane for all eternity. He went to the dining room, where the bowl of pomegranate and pumpkin seeds still stood, unspoiled and fresh as ever, and took a handful of them. He ate six of the contents, three pomegranate seeds and three pumpkin. He then took his silver goblet, half full of wine, and drank the rest only to replenish it right away by waving his hand over the open rim.

 _Hold a wedding_ , he mused, _and as part of the ceremony, have her drink from my cup and eat some of these seeds_. _She will never be able to leave_.

"Michael?"

He turned around and saw Misty there, standing in her lacey, nearly-translucent camisole and knickers that fit loosely enough to be more like pajamas. However, she modesty covered herself with the white shawl she came down into the underworld wearing. He smiled back at her and gestured her to come toward him, and she did. Her movements were slow and ginger.

"How did you sleep, my darling?" he asked her, both hands on her face. She nodded, her expression calm and serene.

"Like a baby," she answered.

"Do you want to see Cordelia again?" Michael offered, almost taking her toward the big black mirror against the wall. However, he felt resistance when trying to lead her over. Misty stayed put.

"N-Not right now."

Michael's eyes widened at her in surprise. He didn't say anything, though he got an idea why she didn't, at least in that moment. He too saw how Cordelia looked at them through her crystal ball as he kissed her.

"I am… gettin' used to it down here," Misty continued. "It's… been a lot but… I am alright, and…you ain't gonna hurt me…"

"No, never," Michael responded, taking her left hand into his and getting down on one knee, looking up at her. "I'd never lay a hand on you or harm you in any way. If you love someone, you do not ever hurt them, let alone consider it."

Misty leaned down a little to meet his piercing gaze, and he continued to speak, and she could tell it was from his heart, and it made her nearly swoon. Intuition and common sense were out the window – Michael had taken such good care of her, and as he promised, he didn't hurt her in the slightest.

"You are my exact other half, Misty. Please say," he said, impassioned, "that you'll marry me."

" _Marry_?" Misty asked. "H-How? There's no church down here… no weddin' gown, no weddin' cake, no bridesmaids, no one to give me away… _how_?"

"Not right away of course," Michael corrected himself, "more like… in 3 days if it were still up in the mortal coil. I will have the time to arrange everything. It will not be a conventional ceremony. Think of it as…" He needed to word his sentences very carefully, as to not give away his plan; "a soiree."

"A…what?"

"It's a very sophisticated kind of party, my dear," Michael said. "There _will_ be guests. I know one of your friends is also in the underworld and has been for some time."

Misty couldn't place who, but she nodded in understanding. "A…wedding soiree."

"Yes, dear," he said. "So… will you?"

What choice did she have? She was trapped in this place indefinitely once again – "yes."

* * *

 ** _A/N:_**

 _It really shocks me to know how many Michael x Misty shippers there are in the AHS fandom. Special shoutout to the few Guests, as well as Winchestergirl123 and Jeomnda for your helpful reviews! So glad you like my little comeback. Review, Favorite and Follow if you enjoy this story! Stay tuned!_


	5. Ch 5 - Old Friends & Preparations

_Chapter 5: Old Friends & Preparations_

Queenie was extremely conflicted now that she revealed her plan out of anger to Michael through her scrying into the underworld. If she were to go down there in what would now be two days, at the rise of the full moon, then Michael will have known she was there anyways. It was not like her to skip dinner, the biggest meal of the day at the academy. She was nervous. _What if I don't make it back_ , she thought to herself, _I need to do this for Cordelia and not be such a big baby. I need to get Misty out of there before she marries Satan_.

She had an idea, one she had not thought of in years. Technically being part of the Voodoo mysteries, she had access to a plethora of deities and spirits the Salem descendants could only dream of. Papa Legba, the keeper of souls in the underworld and ruler of the crossroads, was one she met the first time attempting Descensum by herself in her room. Would he know something about this whole dilemma? Could he be the key to helping her stop this demonic union with the white witch her coven loved so much?

She waited until the rest of the school went to bed, Cordelia included, before she summoned forth the loa in the privacy of the greenhouse. She had a candle lit in each of the four directions, nine by nine feet across in a circle. She managed to get a hold of the shawl Misty prized so much; it was a gift from Stevie Nicks, given to her before her tests of the Seven Wonders years before. With a piece of white chalk, she drew his vévé symbol on the floor and chanted an invocation, setting out a silver tray with three lines of high-quality cocaine.

" _Je vous en voc Papa Legba…_

 _Ecoutez-moi mon loa, Papa Legba_ …"

She repeated the chant under her breath until she felt a cold, dead hand rubbing her shoulder. It startled her, but she knew he had arrived. It was perhaps twenty minutes worth of chanting that brought his attention to her ritual space, and with his booming Caribbean accent, it confirmed his presence.

" _Bonsoir_ , _ma cherie_ ," he said. "It's been a long, long time… what calls me to you tonight, my child?"

"Legba! You're here!" Queenie said with a smile, turning around and seeing him circle to sit down with her in her space. His skin was blacker than the ace of spades, with skull-like white makeup, a top hat rimmed with skull-shaped beads, a black cloak with feathers, a distinct amulet piece composed of teeth and glass beads, suit pants, and nice leather shoes. To top off his signature look, he was carrying a cane with a cobra on the top of it, symbolizing the Damballah of the tradition. Queenie's eyes met his, they glowed crimson-orange at her as she offered the silver plate of cocaine lines to him.

"I got this earlier today. Don't tell Cordelia I took a bit from her wallet to pay for it," she said with a giggle. "It wasn't cheap."

He took some of the cocaine under one of his long, black fingernails, managing to collect a whole line to take up to his nose to snort. He shivered with delight, knowing that her offering was sufficient and authentic.

"I can tell, _ma cherie_ ," he said. "Now… tell me what it is you need."

"Our friend got kidnapped by the Devil, and I volunteered to go down into the underworld to try and get her," Queenie explained. "You see, I was talking to her _captor_ earlier today, and he said he wants to marry her."

"I know exactly who you are talking about," Papa Legba said, shaking his head. "White witch, and a half-demon… no, no."

"I need some help. I don't know who else to turn to," Queenie said. "I'm conflicted. I don't know if I should have volunteered. I was an idiot and got mad at him and threatened to come down there. I shouldn't have done that, but I did and now I feel-"

"I was invited to that union," he said. "It is in two days, with the rise of the full moon."

"That's when I am supposed to go. What a coinki-dink," the black witch said, rolling her eyes.

"One of the souls I have been taking care of was invited as bridesmaid," Legba revealed.

Queenie thought for a moment, and her eyes and jaw widened – " _Nan_?!"

" _Oui_."

"But I thought…" Tears started to form in her eyes; Nan was one of the students she had met when she first came to New Orleans from Detroit back in 2013. She had Down syndrome, but despite her disability, she was an extremely talented clairvoyant with several other powers, including concilium and telekinesis. Queenie grew especially close with her as a friend, and when Zoe found out who killed her, Queenie made several attempts to contact her in the spirit world but to no avail. She had been drowned to death by the previous Supreme, Fiona Goode, in cahoots with Marie Laveau to fulfill a deal of sacrificing an innocent soul in exchange for immortality; Nan was that innocent soul. She remembered how irritated the girl got when she heard other people's thoughts when reading, so she had to listen to music to block it all out. She remembered her distinctive pilgrim fashion style with Peter Pan collars and Mary Jane shoes. She remembered the love shared with the former neighbor, Luke, son of a religious fanatic who didn't want Nan around her son. It all came back to her; she was happy that she was taken such good care of by the loa, but missed her dearly.

"She has been given all her heart desires," Papa Legba said. "Her part of the underworld is like… heaven. Michael, that demon, has tried _too_ hard to make heaven for Misty."

"How is she even happy down there?" Queenie questioned.

"She is lost, she is used to hell, but she is not killing frogs anymore. Just held down there. She longs for the swamp. That was where she was abducted, _ma cherie_ ," he said. "Michael knew that Nan knew Misty, so… she is one of the only guests to appear at the wedding…"

"But how do _I_ get down there? He'll kill me, and I'll be stuck," Queenie said nervously.

"He won't kill you, _cherie_ ,"Legba said. "After all, he got you out of the Hotel Cortez."

Legba scooped up another line of cocaine with his long fingernail and snorted it swiftly, shivering again at the instant high he got. Queenie sighed and nodded.

"Is there anything I should know? Anything I should be prepared for?" she asked him.

"If Misty eats the food in the underworld, she is there forever unless there is negotiation," Legba said.

"Well… _has_ she eaten any? Poor girl must be starving."

" _Non_ ," he said, "but he may have trick up his sleeve. Watch out, or it be too late."

"Too late? What if I am? And what's this about a negotiation?" Queenie inquired. "Who will be in charge of making it if I am too late to stop her from eating anything."

"Depending on what it is," Legba said, "it can be settled she spend part of the year down in hell, and part of the year with you."

"Ugh damn, like a joint custody," Queenie said with disappointment. "Should I tell Cordelia about it?"

"She will find out on her own."

"But what about my safety? Will I be okay?"

"You will be my guest," Legba said, "I was invited, after all."

Before Queenie could ask anything else, Papa Legba disappeared from her space without a trace, leaving half the cocaine unsnorted. She sighed and gathered the rest up in a small vial for later use, and did her best to sweep away the vévé in chalk she drew so no one knew she conjured the enigmatic loa. Lastly, she blew out the candles, put them on the wooden work bench and went to bed, falling fast asleep as the sound of cicadas and an owl lulled her into her slumber from outside.

* * *

"Misty?"

The swamp witch, sitting down staring at the fire in the living room, turned around and gasped to see that Michael was not standing alone in the doorway as he called her name. Seeing who was with him, it made her spring from her seat. It was Nan, the young witch Fiona killed in her fight to retain the supremacy years before. Legba had claimed her soul as a sacrifice, and she has been taken care of since. She was dressed in exquisite blue velvet with a white Peter Pan collar, white buttons, and a skirt that reached her knees, partially covered in knee-high socks. She was holding quite a large box with a large ribbon tacked to the top, and Misty was intrigued.

"Nan…y-you're in hell, too?"

"I've been taken care of," she said in her small voice. "I like it here. It beats being up there with them."

Michael saw the two souls look at each other, but Nan put the gift box down and gave her long lost sister witch a huge hug. Misty's eyes were filled with tears of joy, and she swayed with her gently before letting her go. Nan smiled up at her, her unique eyes squinting as she laughed.

"I missed you," she said playfully.

"I missed you too," Misty said. "Queenie… she never stops talkin' about you."

"Oh, I see Queenie," Nan said.

"You do?"

"Yeah," Nan said, waiting to speak until Michael left the two alone. He did so.

"I'll leave you two to catch up for a while," he said, walking away.

The two witches' souls watched him leave, and they looked at each other. Misty nodded, signaling her to continue speaking as they walked over to the sofa she was sitting on when Michael escorted her into the room.

"She called on Legba last night, my soul keeper," the clairvoyant witch revealed.

"She did?"

"She's coming down for you," Nan said. "Legba's guest. He was invited. I was, too."

 _Is this my way out of this mess_ , Misty thought to herself. "I…I would love to see her… at my weddin'."

"You don't seem very happy."

"I am," Misty said, sitting down next to her friend. "I just… don't have a choice, is all."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you not happy? He gave you that necklace, and this dress. It's beautiful. I have many like it Legba gave me," Nan said brashly with a smile.

"I… miss Cordelia. I miss everyone," Misty said. "I'm so… homesick. I want to leave, but I also want to stay or visit him when I want to."

"Maybe _this_ ," Nan said, handing her the large gift box, "will change your mind. I am glad I am not with them. Our own Supreme killed me."

The box had white wrapping paper and a large light blue ribbon on the top. Misty examined it closely, before she opened it. Nan helped her with the tough bits, but when she got it open, Misty was in awe at what was folded neatly within. It was all black, and pulling it out, she had to stand up because it unfolded into what looked to be a wedding gown – it had a thick ebony tulle skirt with several layers, the top had long sleeves with fine lace and intricate embroidery around the scoop neckline. Nan took the liberty of pulling out a mantilla-styled lace veil with a raised headpiece and a piece of fabric that would go over Misty's face during the wedding.

"It is… beautiful…a… a black wedding dress?" Misty asked, in awe of the luxuriousness of the dress.

"It is suitable my bride be in black," Michael said, standing in the doorway with a smirk. "You may add your own touches, however."

"It will be beautiful on you," Nan said. "Try it on!"

"Uh… ain't it bad luck?" Misty asked, "to have you see me in it before the weddin'?"

Michael nodded and smiled, walking out of the room once again.

The two women worked together to get Misty into the dress. Once stripped to her undergarments, she had lots of help getting into the big, heavy skirt, and then zipping up the back. Misty's hair was still down, and Nan led her to the black mirror, on which they could vaguely see how it looked. The Down syndrome girl smiled and nodded.

"I approve," she said. "You should wear your hair up."

"I was thinkin' the same," Misty replied. "It's… not _too_ much?"

"Not at all. Perfect."

"There's somethin' missin'. Maybe… a flower crown over the veil?"

"Right here," Nan said, holding a wreath of springtime flowers out of the gift box along with the veil. She had Misty sit down so she could fit the mantilla headpiece on her crown, and then put the face piece over her visage before setting the flower crown on her head. Misty smiled under the veil and clasped her hands together.

"I feel like a queen," Misty smiled under her veil.

"You will be a queen," Nan said.

"Wait, what?"

"Queen," she repeated. "Michael's queen."

Misty looked at the black mirror and sighed at the slight reflection. She reached her hands out and mimicked the motion Michael made when he was using it previously, like that which is used to pull up a window shade to see the outside. She gasped at how the mirror began to distort at the center, and she was able to see Cordelia sitting and speaking with Queenie. Misty tried to call out softly into the mirror, hopefully to catch their attention.

"Miss Cordelia? Myrtle? I-I'm here… p-please… come and see me…"

* * *

 _Come and see me_.

Cordelia perked up, suddenly becoming alert as she got the sudden intuitive drive to look into the crystal ball that had been on the coffee table for a few days by this point, as it was one of the only ways to communicate with Misty in the underworld. Myrtle took notice, and without question, got up and moved her seat to be near the coffee table. The Supreme sat down and looked down into the crystal, sighing and smiling.

"Misty…" she said into the crystal.

"She called to you?" Myrtle asked.

"Yes." Cordelia nodded and looked down into the ball to see Misty in her grand black wedding gown, her veil shrouding her pretty face and a flower wreath resting atop her head. She saw the swamp witch lift it back, with a huge smile on her face, waving at her. Cordelia also noticed that Nan was in view; she looked confused, but then caught on to the fact that this was a special scrying mirror.

"She's waving at us," Cordelia said tearfully, "with _Nan_."

"Aw, that poor girl," Myrtle sighed, lighting a cigarillo. "So bright, so young, yet gone so soon."

"That is… her _wedding_ dress," Cordelia whispered sadly, shaking her head.

"I hope it isn't from JC Penney," Myrtle joked haughtily.

"It's not, I don't think. It's… black… with a huge skirt… and a veil… and a flower crown on her head. It is beautiful, but… there is an _evil_ about that dress. It's ominous."

"Queenie cannot descend to grab her soon enough," Myrtle said, shaking her head. "I just hope she is prepared to deal with an onslaught of-"

"I _am_ prepared."

The two witches diverted their attention from the crystal ball over to Queenie, who stood tall in the doorway of the ancestry room. She was clad in a pair of distressed leggings and leopard-print t-shirt, which stretched over her obese form like an uneven canvas. Over her black and red-highlighted locks was a plain bandana, and she was wearing large hooped earrings and a gold accent necklace. Her hands were in determined fists at her sides, and her face said it all – she was going to get Misty Day out of hell for hopefully a final time and be a foil in Michael's plans.

"Queenie… we just think…" Before Cordelia could continue, Queenie walked over to her two superiors slowly and spoke with such conviction that it made even Myrtle shake a little in her seat.

"I have help," she said. "I will be just fine. I'll be protected. You seem to forget I am only _half_ of you guys here. I am half Voodoo, too, heir to Tituba. I have Papa Legba helping me get in there safely. Michael won't lay a damn hand on me."

"A-Are you sure you are up for the task? Tomorrow at sundown you descend," Cordelia said. "We will make your favorites… f-for dinner…"

"Peach cobbler," Myrtle said, her voice dancing, "it is nectar for my soul."

"I will be back, Misty in hand," Queenie said plainly. "I have my whole life to enjoy peach cobbler."

* * *

The following day didn't seem like it had come at all in hell; after all, time passed differently. Nan had remained with Misty and Michael in his part of the underworld, and the young girl's soul had provided much needed comfort and consolation for Misty, an escape from it being just her and the demonic young man. He had listened in on the two reminiscing about their time together at Miss Robicheaux's Academy, and it made him feel a certain kind of way; he was practically in a human form himself, but his existence has mostly been a very sad one. He felt such tenderness toward Misty, but also for Nan because her presence made his bride to-be very happy and her time down in the underworld with him not so lonely.

"A-Are there any other guests, Michael?" Misty asked her groom to-be.

"No," he said.

"There's me," Nan smiled, nodding.

"The other guests I would want here are… not dead yet, and would not know how to come down here otherwise," Michael revealed. "One of them wishes to not see me. Ever."

Misty's naively curious expression turned to one of disbelief and sympathy. Nan just listened to her gut feelings before he could even say anything. _Something is there_ , she thought.

"W-Why? Why don't she wanna see you?" the swamp witch asked.

"I sometimes forget I lived a purely earthly existence before I was able to travel through the mortal coil and the underworld like this. I was born in a very hallowed house in California. My mother died in childbirth. My father, I came to learn, had already been dead but bound to the house. Therefore, my birth was far from natural. I do not remember much else. My grandmother took me in and raised me for the first years of my life, until I grew to be too much for her to handle by herself. Someone like me ages rapidly. I am actually eight years old, but as you can see, I have the appearance, behavior and cognition of someone in their twenties," he explained, sighing solemnly. "I… loved my grandmother. Too much. I would give her gifts often."

"Gifts?" Misty asked, her bright blue eyes full of empathy and understanding.

"Dead animals," Nan whispered in her ear.

"I was like a cat at one point in time, giving her dead mice. Then I was… a much larger predator, when I began to get the cats themselves. But then… I moved on," Michael said, nodding slowly. "I killed my nanny when I was physically three years old. She wouldn't give me a cookie. My grandmother had to clean up the mess and convince the police that she killed herself. Anyone after that, she cleaned up _and_ buried. One day… I snapped. I had grown far too much for someone who was only four years old. I was a child in a teenager's body. It was overnight. I don't know what came over me, but I woke up and went to my grandmother's room. I tried to strangle her. She kept telling me what to do, and what not to do. Then, seeing the suffering and incredulity in her eyes, I stopped. I felt my heart break inside… I-I tried to kill the only woman who ever truly knew and understood me inside and out."

Michael's piercing eyes dulled a bit as tears began to form in them. Misty and Nan just looked at him, not knowing exactly what to do. He was the Antichrist, the King of Hell – how could anyone sane feel bad for him? His bride to-be simply took his hand, and he gasped a bit, not knowing what to do except listen to him.

"I apologized profusely to her. She was crying her eyes out. Rightly so, as I had tried to kill her. I asked her for a glass of water, and she got me one. I had it and went back to bed. However, she called in a priest, believing my aging to be unnatural. It was, she was right. I…ended up slashing his throat and propping him up to sit so it appeared as though he were playing video games with me. That was when… it went downhill," Michael explained. "I didn't see her for quite some time after, until I went in the house next door, my birthplace. I called for my grandma, and after a while… I found her…"

"She was dead," Nan whispered to Misty, who glanced at her briefly.

"She had… o-overdosed… and d-d-drank herself to d-death… I felt so horrible," Michael said, nearly breaking out into heavy sobs. He made Misty let go of his hand so he could lean forward and cry into his hands, trying not to let out a whine as he did so. The swamp witch just watched him and listened as he tried to get words out. "I-I tried to wake her up… I-I didn't understand what she had done until it sunk in. I apologized to her… I-I caused her so much pain… it was all my fault… I lost the only woman at the time who… understood me and loved me _unconditionally_."

Misty looked down and sighed; _there is still some humanity left in him_ , she thought to herself, _then again, what choice do I have marryin' him_?

"A man appeared," Michael continued, wiping his eyes. "His name was Dr. Ben Harmon, a spirit bound to the house. He would have been my father, but… he wasn't, technically. Yet he treated me more like a son than my own father did. He… talked with me… played ball with me, taught me chess… fostered my growth. He saw _promise_ in me, and I was willing to change my ways. I _wanted_ to become good. I had not thought of harming anyone or thing while with Ben… that was… until my father, as the other spirits told me he was, _berated_ and outright _rejected_ me…to my _face_."

"T-That must be hard, Michael," Misty said sadly, feeling his pain. "I know what it's like to be rejected. I…was burnt alive by my community after a revival. Even when I brought myself back, I hid out and felt… like an outcast. I felt lost… I couldn't find my tribe… until the school took me in."

Michael looked at her, frightening her and Nan slighty as they noticed his eyes, peering at them from under his brow, turned pitch black; "you take souls from the precipice of life and death and bring them back. Have you ever thought of _erasing_ some from existence?"

Misty was taken aback, looking back at Nan. The two witches held hands tightly, for dear life, as if he planned to erase _them_ from existence. Closing her eyes, she continued to listen and braced herself in case he did just that to her captive soul. His eyes turned back to their human blue-green color and he continued to share anecdotes from his early life; before Hawthorn, before the Seven Wonders, before abducting Misty and taking her down to the underworld.

"A lesbian couple moved into the house. They didn't belong there. I… took my father's gimp suit and assumed his role entirely. I wanted to be like him, make him proud, if I could. Yet I wanted to be good in case my grandmother was watching and wanted to see me. I killed them both and did something I never did before. I burned their souls out of the fabric of reality. Ben came to me, catching me in the act, and that was the last time I saw him. I cried… hearing him say… I-I was beyond help, basically. My _own_ mother, also bound to the house, tried to kill me in my sleep, but I woke up and almost did the same to her soul until my father saved her and got her out of the way. Somehow, the weirdest thing happened…"

 _Oh dear_ , Misty thought, _even his own mother tried killin' him. No wonder he's got a genuine hatred for the world_.

"The house caught the attention of a local Satanic cult… that is where I met the other guest I would want at our wedding tonight… Miriam Mead. She raised me after all this. She opened her heart, mind, and home to me. I miss her. She is still alive but has no way of coming down here to attend. She is a regular human, not like you or me. She has no access to the underworld. I'd invite her in a heartbeat," he continued, nodding slowly. "They held a ceremony, I was guest of honor so to speak. A young virgin girl was brought in unconscious, dressed in white, anointed by their priest, and her… heart was carved from her chest. Mrs. Mead gave me this offering, and I could just _feel_ her vibration… full of reverence and endearment… I took the heart from the offering bowl and I ate it. I felt _truly_ in my element. I was not meant to become a ' _good boy'_. I am the son of the Devil himself… it is not in my nature. I bring chaos to this world, and…" He looked at Misty, taking her aback as he got up from the sofa the three sat on and got on his knees before his bride to-be, looking up into her eyes as he continued, "I need my balance, my counterpart. I am like a god, and you will be like a goddess, my consort. You bring life and light, I bring death and darkness. You bring out the humanity in me. I am a better person with you. I felt that connection when I brought you back, darling."

Misty looked down at him and took her shaking hand up to his face, caressing his cheek as he started to smile from her light touch. What he said next made her heart shake.

"Let's pull back the wedding," he said. "I need to be one with you, my love, and _sooner_. I cannot wait anymore."

"A-Are you sure?" Misty asked, a little apprehensive. "I…I was hopin' I could get… cleaned up first… b-before the weddin'. C-Can we stick with… the original time?"

"As you wish it," he said, "but I cannot wait."

"Michael," Nan said, "I know I'm not in any place to say it, but… I think the rise of the moon is more than enough time for both of you."

He looked at the Down syndrome girl and shook his head; "you're right. I need to get my fine suit out anyhow."

* * *

Queenie had eaten light that evening at dinner. By about 6:30pm, they all had cleaned up from the meal. Cordelia, Myrtle, Zoe, and Madison all met in the ancestry room, and Queenie looked out the window. The Supreme stared down into the crystal ball, but her view to the underworld was obstructed. She shook her head with frustration and anticipation, wanting to see the conditions before Queenie attempted Descensum to go down there.

"I can't see anything!" she exclaimed.

"Let me try," Queenie said, getting away from the window. She looked at Zoe, pointing toward the window; "watch for the moonrise."

Zoe went an moved the curtains aside, peering up at the sky as Queenie went to the crystal ball and sat next to Cordelia. Gathering herself, she peered into the glass to see an unveiled Misty staring into the mirror on her side. Nan, dressed in a pleated evergreen evening down with a luxurious necklace, bracelet and earring set, her hair in a chignon and her makeup done to perfection, was doing Misty's hair in a similar fashion behind her, working her fingers through her soft golden curls.

"She's getting her hair done," Queenie said. "Nan is doing it." Then, as if talking to her old friend, she waved into the crystal ball. "Hey, girl!"

"You should probably start now," Zoe said. "I can see the moon rising from here."

"Alright…" Queenie said, waving her hand over the crystal ball and getting into position on the floor, relaxing her entire body and crossing her arms over her chest, a signature move when using Descensum. The other witches looked on and bade her good luck. "This is it."

"We'll be here when you come back," Zoe said, sitting on the floor next to Queenie's still body. With a deep breath, she started to say aloud:

" _Spiritu duce, in me est._

 _Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum,_

 _ut salutaret inferi_ …"

After one more deep breath to brace herself, she was off: " _descensum_!"

* * *

 ** _A/N:_**

 _Thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story. I'm so glad you all are enjoying it so far! I hope I didn't spoil this week's episode too much for anybody. Stay tuned as we enter the underworld with Queenie to try and save Misty from being bound to Michael forever in their demonic wedding ceremony...to get a notification of the next (climactic) chapter, Follow me or the story... or both!_


	6. Ch 6 - Negotiations

_Chapter 6: Negotiations_

"Aw damn," Queenie said as she struggled to watch her step down the long, pitch-black, tunnel-like void. "It's nasty down here."

" _Ma cherie_ ," she heard a voice call.

"Legba? I'm here!"

She saw a light, and the same tall, black man with white skull makeup, a top hat, bones and glass beads around his neck, cane topped with a cobra, and black cloak over a suit. His red-orange eyes flashed at her, and he held a very bright lantern up to see it was really her.

"Ah, there you are," the loa said in his booming, African-French accent. "You are not dressed for the occasion."

"I know I'm not," Queenie said, coming near him and eventually under his cloak as they walked down the path. "I am _crashing_ the wedding, not attending. Remember?"

"There is not any time to change now," he said. "We need to get down there… _fast_. It starts as we speak."

"Shit," Queenie muttered. "Do you have a way to get down there faster?"

"Come under my cloak more," Legba said. "We will glide past the screams of tortured souls."

"And he won't touch me?" Queenie asked to ensure her safety.

" _Non_ , not with me present," Legba promised. "Hang on tight."

Queenie held onto the loa for dear life under his cloak as they started to gain momentum through the tunnel leading to the underworld. The wind blew in her hair like a winter breeze; it was cold for such a dark place. As they went faster, Queenie peered into the ajar doors of each part of hell; there was even the one she had been in, from a time where she was at that fried chicken joint in Detroit. She hated it there and would rather die than return. Then she passed the door to a Sears-like retailer, where she had been with Michael to retrieve Madison's soul. However, she shut her eyes for most of the trip, still hearing the echoes of shrill screams of those suffering in the depths of hell as they descended.

* * *

 _I'm ready_ , Misty thought to herself under her veil, holding a bouquet of narcissuses assembled by Nan. She took a breath, and the march began. It was not a usual wedding march, and the doors slid open to let her walk down the makeshift aisle leading to the fireplace of the living room. The furniture was moved in such a way it resembled an earthly wedding, for Misty's comfort. Michael stood there with a smile, the fire blazing behind him as his heart fluttered at the sight of his bride. Nan sat on the side, looking up at the bride with awe as she walked toward her husband to-be slowly. The girl got up to gather the flowers for the bride before she continued a bit more briskly to where she would stand in front of Michael, who also acted as the officiant.

"I am pleased to announce that I have found a bride, Miss Misty Day," he said. "Nan, you bear witness to this ceremony so far."

Misty turned her eyes down under her black veil and sighed quietly, as Michael continued.

"I, Michael Langdon, at this point in time in the realms of the underworld, take you," he said, taking out a plain silver ring, "Misty Day, to be my consort, my wife, my counterpart."

As he slid it on her left ring finger, Misty noticed that there was already a ring on Michael's. It was the same type, same style; plain as can be. She struggled to utter the words that confirmed his.

"I… Misty Day… take you, M-Michael Langdon, as… my _husband_." He could tell by the grave tone in her voice and the stammering that she was not about this. _Probably jitters_ , he thought, brushing it off.

"And now… our first consumption," he said. Misty watched him as he took the same dish as a few days ago, a combination of pomegranate and pumpkin seeds, out and consume one… then two… all the way up to a total amount of six pumpkin seeds in front of her. They were miraculously unspoiled, still fresh as though he just served them.

 _Don't eat it_ , her intuition dictated, _don't eat it_.

* * *

Meanwhile, Queenie was getting impatient. Papa Legba was still flying down to that part of the underworld with her, but he could not have possibly gone any faster.

"Can't you get there any faster?" she begged. "Misty could be in the process of it all right now, being married to Satan!"

"Patience is a virtue," he replied. "We are almost there. You can wait just a bit longer. Even _I_ am late. I was invited, too."

* * *

"I'm so hungry," Misty muttered.

"What was that, my love?" Michael asked with smiling, piercing eyes.

"I'm hungry… b-but I can't eat," she answered under the veil.

"Don't you trust me?" he asked, taking the bowl up to his nose and sniffing it in a big inhalation, trying to evoke a desperate response from his bride. "Mmm… sweet pomegranate… and the best part, you can eat the seeds. You don't have to spit them out… and the pumpkin seeds… also delicious, a nice, applewood hint to an overall crunchy texture…"

At that moment, she caved, having not eaten anything since she went down with him to the underworld. She took the same amount of seeds out of obligation and ate the entire handful in one gulp, tearing up as she did. She did not know _why_ she shouldn't have taken them, but all she knew, she felt better. No more hunger pangs and grumbling, yet she felt slightly nauseous and even a little different.

"And now…" Michael said with a smile. "The libation."

He pulled out a wide silver jeweled chalice, full of a distinctive red liquid. Misty could smell it – it was a mixture of fermented grapes and the odor of a fresh wound. It nearly made her wretch but watching him take a sip from it first made her feel slightly better. However, she knew he could tolerate it because of his state of being as a demon. Would it make her ill or worse?

He handed her the chalice ceremoniously, and she took it in both of her shaking hands, feeling even sicker to her stomach.

"Drink your part, my love," he encouraged.

"I… I…"

"Don't you trust me?" he asked.

She took a moment and sighed, lifting up her veil slightly, but not enough to uncover her face, and took the chalice closer and closer to her mouth. She was subconsciously stalling not just at the foul feeling in her stomach from eating the seeds, as well as the stench of the beverage, but she had the overwhelming feeling someone was coming.

"Drink," he urged.

Without skipping a beat, she took the rim to her lips and allowed the mystery wine into her mouth. She was not sure how much exactly came into her body when she heard a familiar voice break the song in the room.

"DON'T DRINK THAT!"

Misty's eyes widened under her veil; _oh no_ , she thought, _I swallowed some_. She began to feel even sicker, more nauseous and even faint at this point. Her hearing began to go fuzzy, and she could only vaguely hear what was going on around her.

"Queenie, what are _you_ doing here?! You weren't invited!" Michael exclaimed.

"She is my guest," a booming African-French accent declared. "Do not lay a hand on her, demon-boy. She is protected, and you will be sorry."

Misty's knees began to get weak, looking at the obese African-American witch interacting heatedly with her now-husband and the loa she came with. She collapsed to the floor, falling deeply unconscious and dropping the chalice, the red liquid spilling on the floor.

"MISTY!" Queenie exclaimed, going over to the unconscious bride. "No…no… _please_! Wake up!"

"She is my wife," Michael stated. "She belongs to me, now, for all eternity."

Queenie began to sob over Misty's body, pulling the veil and flower crown off her head and seeing her pretty face, pale as death itself. Her heart fell so deep in her chest.

"I failed you," she whispered. "Please… wake up…"

Michael glared at the obese witch, who held the upper body of his bride in her lap to try and revive her. He was not worried about Misty because what they were witnessing was a normal reaction to eating or drinking anything from hell. Nan had joined Queenie in her efforts, trying to shake the unconscious bride awake.

"Nan," Queenie said. "Am I glad to see you."

"We need to get her up," her friend said. "Now."

"I'll try… to revive her," the obese witch said, gathering her composure.

Nan took Misty on her lap and took her now-messy hair out of her face. Queenie took in a deep breath and tried to part Misty's lips, uttering " _vitalum vitalis_ ", before blowing her life force into the lifeless body. The two waited for a few minutes, but nothing happened.

"Oh c'mon, Misty," she muttered, crying. " _Please_."

"There is no sense in trying," Michael said. "She is mine now."

Queenie almost flew off the handle, but remembered that she was in hell, in _his_ domain of existence. If she tried to take a jab at him, let alone use her injury transference power on him, she'd only be damning herself. If anything, he'd make her stay down there as punishment or do much worse not only to her, but perhaps Nan. She looked around to see if Papa Legba was still there, and he was standing behind Michael.

"Legba… please… c-can you help?"

"I cannot," he replied, gesturing to Michael. "This is… _his_ realm."

Queenie shook her head angrily, her hand on Misty's face; "I swear to God, if this was the mortal coil, I would-"

 _Ngh-blech…_

Everyone present gasped as they heard the guttural retching sound. Nan realized it was Misty and turned her on her side away from her very quickly. It were as though she was on the verge of vomiting yet struggling to breathe all at once. Queenie rushed to grab a container of sorts, and found a random bucket sitting just at the base of one of the bookshelves lining a wall. She put it under Misty's mouth, where she vomited straight red fluid into it.

Michael was furious beyond all measure. It took a lot for him to not punish Queenie right then and there for ruining their wedding. _She's vomiting up what I gave her_ , he thought to himself, _now she'll never be with me forever._ When Misty stopped, she was crying, clutching her stomach in pain.

"Ow," she moaned in agony.

"What the hell did you give her, Michael?" Queenie asked.

"Our libation, which now is _null_ ," Michael grunted.

"Michael, you can't make me drink that again! _Please_! I won't let you! Smells like blood!" Misty cried. "I ain't feelin' so well."

"Did you throw up any seeds?" Nan asked.

Queenie was taken aback – " _seeds_? What seeds?"

"He… gave her pomegranate and pumpkin seeds to eat," she replied.

"You didn't _stop her_?!" the black witch scolded.

"I need a friend down here, from up there," Nan said sadly. "Plus, I have no say in this realm."

"Nan, we need her!"

Michael stepped in, peering into the bucket and seeing that she only threw up the mystery wine she was made to drink by him after he took his sip; "both of you, get away from Misty _right now_."

Queenie did not want to obey this monster, and neither did Nan, but they parted like the Red Sea away from Misty, making a clear path for him to walk toward her. He moved the bucket aside and put his arm around his new wife, who was crying and clutching her stomach.

"My love," he whispered in her ear.

"I want to go home," she said sadly. "Please…"

"You can leave if you wish," Michael said with a slight smirk. "Is that _really_ what you want, Misty?"

"Yes, please… _yes_ ," she said frantically. "I promise you, I'll see you again. I promise."

The two looked into each other's eyes. Michael took her chin up a bit and kissed her lips softly; she could taste the bitter mystery wine remnants on his lips, and she couldn't stand it anymore so she broke the kiss subtly.

"You don't need to promise me anything, love," he said suspiciously.

Queenie looked back at Papa Legba and smiled with relief, and as she watched Michael help his new wife to her feet, she noticed him take her arm in his as if he were the one giving her away. He led Misty over to her sister witch and joined their hands together before him, saying as he looked into Misty's eyes: "until we meet again."

* * *

Myrtle and Cordelia were still awake near sunrise. Zoe and Madison had fallen asleep on the sofa and on the floor a few hours before. The Supreme began to tear up, seeing the sun start to rise outside; worried for the girl's safety, she went on the floor next to her, prepared to chant the spell to reverse Descensum and bring her soul back to its body.

"Dear," Myrtle said. "Give her a few more minutes."

"But the sunrise-"

"It isn't completely up yet," the older witch corrected.

The two waited a few more minutes, and lo and behold, Queenie jolted up to signify she was back from the underworld. Looking around, Cordelia gave her a huge embrace to signify that she was proud of her witch for going down and attempting. Yet Misty did not manifest until a few minutes later, when a small tornado of black ash turned in a large pile that formed a familiar body. When Zoe and Madison woke up to see the action, they saw Misty, dressed in her black wedding gown, laying on the floor next to Queenie, her eyes still closed. Cordelia gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, tearing up as she went over to her to gently wake her. Misty's eyes opened wearily, and looked up at her Supreme.

"Miss Cordelia?" she asked. "Am I back? Is Michael here?"

"No, he isn't!" Cordelia replied. "You're _safe_! You're back, again! Here, stand up!"

Myrtle walked over to her Supreme and Misty so she could assist in helping her stand, a difficult task in a very wide dress. Once she was able to stand on two feet, Myrtle gasped at the dress and shook her head.

"Oh dear, you need a bath and to get rid of this _nightmare_ of a gown," she said haughtily. "Madison, Zoe? Make a pit outside so we can burn this monstrosity."

"Are you crazy?" Misty asked. "No. We ain't burnin' it."

Cordelia was not too shocked given what she saw in the crystal ball when trying to watch her; "what? Misty… you were taken against your will and forced to marry him."

"I… want to keep it," she replied. "It's my weddin' dress. Nan gave it to me."

"That girl always had awful taste," Myrtle said, shaking her head.

"She kept me company down there. Michael actually treated me well, like a _queen_ ," Misty revealed. "There was a whole side to him none of us even knew, that… I _saw_."

"What is that glowing on your neck?" Cordelia asked, her attention drawn to the glowing malachite pendant hanging off the chain.

"A gift," Misty said. "Michael gave it to me to help me adjust to bein' down there with him."

"Take it off."

"No." It was not like Misty to be so defiant like this.

"Misty, looking at that is making me… oh god, I don't know how to describe it," Cordelia said with a grunt.

"Have you had anything to eat?" Myrtle asked. "You must be _starved_."

"Well… the weddin', I threw up the drink he gave me," Misty said.

"What else did you have?"

"I…was given seeds. Pomegranate and pumpkin."

Myrtle looked at Cordelia, shaking her head but not saying anything. The Supreme knew exactly what to expect from something like this. The older witch led her up to her room and got out more comfortable clothing before she drew a bath for her. It was not nearly like the bath she had that Michael drew for her, but it helped her cleanse and feel purified after her abduction and return. She tried to not take too long in the bath, so she got out, dried off, and put on fresh undergarments as well as a new outfit, consisting of a floral tank top dress with a lace-up front. She dried her hair but did not leave it down; instead, she put it up into a ponytail, something she almost never did. She walked into her room and gasped at the sight of Michael sitting on her bed with one of her shawls, inhaling the scent deeply. He looked at her and smiled.

"Misty…" he greeted, standing up to kiss her lips and wrap her in an embrace. "It's been so long, hasn't it?"

"Barely," she said, returning his hug. "But how did you…get _in here_?"

"You already forget what I'm capable of?" Michael asked. "Where is Cordelia?"

"S-She's…" She stopped herself. "Wait a second, _why_?"

"Oh, I'll tell you," he said. "She has to negotiate."

"Negotiate?"

"Yes. You only threw up the wine, _not_ the seeds."

"I don't understand."

"Misty," Michael said. "If you eat what I offer you in the underworld, you are bound to it for all eternity. I was sent up by my father to come and do it myself. He would rather _not_ be involved. He already has it out for me because I took you."

Her heart sank – _eternity_ , she asked herself _, is he for real?_

"Y-You _tricked_ me?" she asked him incredulously.

"Not exactly, but that was the only way the marriage could be official in hell, since you are from this realm here," he explained.

"No wonder it made me sick!" she exclaimed. "What was even in that wine?"

"Wine," he replied simply.

"It smelled like blood."

" _And_ that," he smirked.

"From where?"

"Mine," Michael said.

"I can't believe it…" Misty said, backing away from him slowly. "I-I don't want to go back down with you. Please don't make me."

"But you've drunk from my cup and eaten the seeds," he said. "It is not a choice."

"Can't _I_ just negotiate? It is my life, after all," Misty offered.

Michael thought for a moment and nodded slowly. "I don't see why you can't. After all, you are my wife."

* * *

Cordelia was absolutely shocked to learn that Michael made his way into Miss Robicheaux's Academy all by himself. Misty had walked down with him from her room, and it appeared that he took her arm in his. It was almost like he owned her. Cordelia stood up to stand her ground, yet she nearly fainted in his presence. Even Misty looked different next to him; she gave off a very different vibration than usual. She was usually surrounded by the white light of spirit; at that moment, she was not.

"Michael," she said. "W-What are you doing here? Y-You should leave…"

"We need to negotiate," Michael said, "I'm very certain you know _why_."

"Misty ate seeds and drank a cup from you while in hell," Cordelia said. "You held her hostage. You manipulated her into caving into your sick, twisted desires. I can't imagine what _else_ you did to her, but there is _nothing_ to negotiate."

"H-He never touched me," Misty said softly, defending Michael. "He only gave me that food, but other than that, he never was cruel to me."

"I would never hurt you, Misty," he said to his wife, touching her face and gazing into her eyes. "When you love someone, you should never hurt them. Remember I told you that?"

"This is stupid," Madison said in the background. "He doesn't love you, Misty. He stole you and now you have sympathy for him. Stockholm syndrome, much? It's all bullshit."

Without hesitating, Michael held out his hand and concentrated, and with barely any effort, he sent her flying backward toward the wall, where a loud thud and the shaking of some antiquated portraits of past Supremes could be heard. Madison held the back of her head, feeling it throb as she heard Cordelia reprimand her supposed heir for his action.

"Michael! Stop it!"

"I gave you a third chance at life," he said sternly, looking at Madison as she groaned on the floor from the impact. "If you want to keep it, it would be wise of you to not speak to me or my wife that way." He turned to Cordelia; "now, there _is_ negotiation. Misty got sick and threw up only the wine we shared, not the seeds. She ate six in total, as did I. I was sent here because my father would rather not deal a hand in the situation. He wants me to do more for myself."

He walked over to sit on the sofa next to Queenie, who was still tired from venturing into the underworld to retrieve her sister witch; she shivered just looking at him. Misty followed him like a shadow, standing behind him as he sat down.

"And?"

"Rules are rules," he said. "She is to remain down in the underworld in my realm."

"No!" Cordelia said. "She belongs up here, with _us_. You abducted her!"

"She is married to me," Michael challenged. "That aside, she consumed food offered to her."

"You took advantage of her," Cordelia said coarsely, "she didn't know about how eating food from the underworld binds you to it. She's a _girl_ , Michael!"

Misty couldn't hear any more of this. How could these two alone decide what happened in her own life? She was a grown woman, able to make decisions for herself. Why did Cordelia act like a mother to her like this? It made her very uncomfortable. Michael's possessive behavior was not acceptable either.

"Stop it!" she exclaimed.

"Misty, you-"

"I _what_ , Miss Cordelia? I'm ain't a _girl_. I am full grown, I can make choices for myself!" she exclaimed with frustration. Michael smirked up at his wife with pride. _Good_ , he thought to himself _, stand up for yourself, love. I just hope whatever you decide, it's in our favor. Though you ate food from my realm. Rules are rules_.

Cordelia shook her head and sighed, nearly tearing up; "do you seriously want to stay with him, Misty? After _all_ he's done to you?"

"What about all he's _done_ for me?" Misty asked rhetorically. "I want to stay up here. I _do_. Yet… I-I am married. Michael is my husband."

"I don't want you down there, Misty. It's dangerous! You can't even attempt Descensum without dying," her Supreme said sadly, tearing up and looking into Misty's eyes as she put her hands on her shoulders. "I won't lose you again."

"Misty," Michael said, "I could teach you. It's like learning how to swim once you become proficient."

"Don't even describe it like that, Michael," Cordelia warned. "You _know_ that's wrong. She lost her life. That is why I had you bring her back!"

Misty frowned and sighed – _what a tough decision_ , she thought, _there's gotta be a way I can make both of them happy. I can't just leave Michael_.

"What about six months with us, and six months with Michael?" Myrtle suggested, looking at Cordelia from where she was standing in the hallway. She had been eavesdropping a bit, and thought it was finally time to add her two cents.

"How would I do that?" Misty asked with confusion.

"That is a _very_ tempting offer," Michael said, standing up and holding Misty's hand. "I am perfectly content with that." He looked at Myrtle and smiled. "At least _someone_ is reasonably-minded."

"Myrtle," Cordelia said sadly. "I…"

"Let the girl go for six months, and she will return up here for the other half of the year," Myrtle said. "There you have it. It sounds perfectly fair."

"Cordelia," the young man said, taking Misty into his arms as he maintained eye contact with the Supreme, "I don't like being away from Misty for that long either, but six months is better than nothing. I understand I took her, but I am still grateful I get to see her, and she can be with me. She won't starve, she won't be cold. She will be taken _very_ good care of, as I have for her so far."

Misty looked up at her husband, and it was like her faith was restored in him, even though he tricked her by making her consume something from the nether realms. Her heart began to flutter, but then she looked at Myrtle and smiled with a nod of gratitude for her splendid idea.

"I guess we have no choice, now do we?" Cordelia asked. "You go with him one half of the year, and you come back the other half."

"Oh… _thank you_!" Misty squealed, hugging her Supreme tightly. She reciprocated, before the swamp witch ran over to Myrtle and hugged her tightly as well. The old witch, being prim, gently patted her back and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Yes, little bird," she said, her voice dancing before it became a whisper. "I do not like Michael, but I support _you_ and your decisions."

"W-What days do I come up and then go down with you?" Misty asked Michael.

He promptly responded; "exactly six months is the span between November 1 and May 1. You will be down with me during the fall and winter, and return to this place in spring."

"November 1 is in two weeks," Misty said.

"Yes," Michael said, walking over to his bride. Myrtle walked away but watched them together. He held her close and put her arms around him, sighing. "Two weeks, I will be here to get you, my love."

"You can go to and from whenever you please," Myrtle said. "W-What about me? Will I just be stuck?"

"You will be with me every day," Michael said, "regardless. Not to worry. Your needs will be taken care of. You'll never have to need or want when you are with me. I love you."

Misty couldn't believe this – she was married to the king of hell, and a deal was arranged to satisfy all involved. Yet the others in the room couldn't believe it, either. In the history of witches, there has never been a recorded case of a witch marrying a demon and being kept in the underworld for a set period of time each year, or for all eternity for that matter. Misty was the first, and hopefully the last, witch under this circumstance.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_**

 _So a deal has been made with our Antichrist by our Supreme, as well as Misty herself! Glad it benefits everyone... so it seems._

 _I will be posting an Epilogue, so stay tuned. If you enjoyed this, Follow, Favorite and be sure to leave a Review! _

_Thanks to everyone for their support!_


	7. Epilogue - Soul Retrieval

_Epilogue – Soul Retrieval_

Misty savored her last weeks until spring's arrival with Miss Robicheaux's Academy to their fullest. The student body was only told that Misty had a friend who needed her help. Some of them were skeptical, others paid it no mind. Mallory and Coco, however, were the only ones who knew that were not part of the council or teaching body, as Mallory was witness and Coco had promised to keep Misty safe along with the rest that fateful evening. They were sworn to secrecy as special cases.

In preparation for Halloween, they all lent a hand in decorating the main hall, the ancestry room, dining room, and the kitchen with hang-up ghost props, pumpkin garland, and jack-o-lanterns were carved with candles placed inside them. Myrtle and Misty worked together to make special floral arrangements appropriate for the season – orange roses, bright yellow sunflowers, white lilies, and foliage gathered from outside that day as an added touch. When working with the floral arrangements, Myrtle had narcissuses brought in, and they caught Misty's gaze like a fly to honey. _My wedding flowers_ , she thought.

"Narcissus," Myrtle said, inhaling the scent. "The flower of new life. A narcotic."

"They are beautiful," Misty replied with a smile, thinking of Michael. "T-They were my weddin' flowers."

"It's a wonder flowers are in hell _at all_."

"They are," she said, "if you know where to look. It seems like he can conjure a rabbit from a hat down there."

"Do you have a costume planned for our Halloween soiree?" Myrtle asked.

"I… will think of somethin'. It shouldn't be too hard," Misty said affirmatively.

The Halloween soiree was something held at Miss Robicheaux's every year since Cordelia went public with the coven in 2013, when the school also started accepting students on a massive scale. It was a chance for some select invited guests from the public to interact with the students at the academy. For Cordelia, it meant integrating into society and being accepted instead of stigmatized. All of the students, council and teachers dressed in costume.

* * *

The day of Halloween, Misty was extremely nervous and slightly overwhelmed at the inevitable – at midnight, she was set to return to the underworld with Michael, and not return to the mortal coil again until May 1. She was in the greenhouse, watering the plants when she got an idea. Seeing some of the flowers were in full bloom, she found them appropriate to add to a costume. She kept it a secret until that night and brought one of her white maxi dresses down to the greenhouse with some twine. She plucked some daisies, small rose buds, violets, and snapdragon stalks and strung them on long pieces of twine to make a belt sash and a headband that tied in the back. That evening, she put it on and styled her golden curls around the headband to hide the twine and emphasize the flowers. She was barefoot, which added to her fairy-like ensemble.

She entered the party by exiting the greenhouse's back door and going around to the front, where a few people were still coming into the festivities. She walked slowly, as to not cut anyone off rudely, and people just looked at her in awe. Kyle, who was wearing a top hat and some zombie makeup, was ushering the guests in, and smiled at Misty when she came to the front door.

"Now I know _you_ live here," he joked. "Nice costume."

"Thank you, I made it," Misty smiled, fleeing in quickly to meet with Cordelia or one of her sister witches. She first saw Mallory, who met her with a smile and a warm gaze with her chocolate-colored eyes. She was dressed as an angel with a white kerchief dress, her trademark celestial jewelry, and a halo headband complete with a pair of faux feather wings with gold tinsel detailing. On her feet were winged gold sandals, and she was wearing gold-tone body glitter.

"Misty, your costume!" she smiled, reaching to touch one of the snapdragons tied to her waist.

"Thank you, I made it myself. Kinda last minute," she said.

"Let me guess?" Mallory began. "Fairy queen? Flower child? Nymph?"

"I… guess any of those," the swamp witch replied.

"It's so pretty! Hey, have you seen Cordelia at all?"

"I ain't seen her anywhere," Misty said, starting to walk with her past the guests. "You need somethin'?"

"Well," Mallory leaned in to talk a little lower over the music playing in the background. "I know this event is for the public, but, after all you went through, I just hope he doesn't plan to show up and take you again. I'd hate for that to happen. I know you're _together_ and all but-"

"If he comes, I don't think Cordelia is gonna kick him out," Misty said. "Please, don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"I… just was horrified," the girl in the angel costume replied. "Seeing you like that, as…black ash whirling about."

"Don't be silly," Misty smiled casually. "It's fine. When I _do_ have to go, you may not even be awake to see me go."

The two witches suddenly came upon Zoe, dressed in all black with cat ears and drawn-on whiskers, and Madison, dressed in a sexy devil costume with a prop pitchfork and red sparkly horns on her headband. The latter of the girls was the first to speak.

"Misty, Cordelia needs to see you. She's in the office," she said.

"W-Why?"

"Nothing bad," Zoe said. "I can assure you." She looked around and said, walking away with Madison; "what a great turnout for this party."

Misty and Mallory shrugged at each other and pressed on, making their way through guests dancing and mingling to make it to where Madison said Cordelia was expecting her. Mallory stopped outside the door when Misty was about to open it.

"I have to see her, too," she said, "but you go first."

Misty nodded, stepping into the office and seeing Cordelia stand there looking outside the window. When the Supreme felt her presence there, she turned around and looked at her. Misty was smiling at her, admiring Cordelia's costume – she looked to be dressed for the occasion as a Greek goddess, and her long tunic was an emerald green shade. Her sleek blonde hair was in a bun that hid under a wreath of leaves and small pretend fruits, and around her neck was a gold costume necklace. Her eye makeup was also green, and her blush was a light pink.

"Aw, Misty," she said, approaching her. "Just who I needed to see. I love your costume!"

It was bland in comparison to the regality of Cordelia's get-up, but it still caught a lot of attention. She had on one of her plain white maxi dresses that laced up on the top front, and she had the string of fresh flowers she made tied around her waist like a sash. Her golden curls were accented by the same kind of fresh flowers from the greenhouse as around her waist. She was bare-faced, without any makeup, and she was barefoot. She still retained her signature bohemian jewelry, however.

"I made it," she said. "It's so simple."

"Misty…" Cordelia began, stifling a cry, "you know what tonight means."

"I know," she said, "there ain't a need to remind me."

"This event is open to the public, but there is no prohibition on him being here, or showing up," the Supreme said, putting her hands on Misty's shoulders. "I… see he could be here."

"Right _now_? To… take me?"

"That is at midnight you go," Cordelia said. "God, I don't even want to think about it."

"Miss Cordelia," Misty said softly, looking into her dark-colored eyes. "I am fine. I am a grown woman. A deal is a deal, and I have to go and be with him until May. You can see me through your crystal ball, and I can see you through the black mirror down there. We won't be out of touch." She paused for a moment. "He… has taken care of me and won't hurt me at all. You don't have to worry about me."

Cordelia stiffed upper lip and sighed; "one of my worries is… what if you get pregnant?"

"I… I don't know," Misty said, in thought. "S-Should I ask him? He'd know better than I."

"Misty… this may be the last time I see you not just for the night, but… the entire season," the Supreme said, closing her eyes and holding her hands together as if to concentrate. Misty could feel a familiar white light of protection around her, and also around Cordelia, and when she opened her eyes, she lifted her chin and smiled.

"Have fun at the party," Cordelia said.

When Misty left the office, the Supreme noticed Mallory standing around and approached her. The angel-clad witch smiled at her cordially.

"Hello, Miss Cordelia," she said. "Is everything okay? I actually wanted to see you."

"I know, I'm sorry but I cannot meet with you right now. I do have a task for you, however," she said.

"Yes?"

"Watch Misty," Cordelia said. "Watch who she talks to. If anyone looks suspicious, trust your gut. I know Michael is coming for her tonight, but I saw earlier that he could be here sooner for the party."

"Sure thing," she said. "In fact, that's what I wanted to come to you about. H-He's not going to make her dissolve into black ash in front of everyone, will he?"

Cordelia chuckled darkly – "if he has common sense, he won't."

* * *

The party pressed on, and after a little bit of punch, Misty was up dancing with the rest of the guests in the grand hall near the staircase. All kinds of music with danceable beats were played, and some alcohol was available. Misty was not a drinking type, so she avoided it. Madison, however, was hitting on a bunch of guys, having had a bit too much. As she was dancing, she felt like she was being watched. She looked around her a few times and saw nothing. Then, a remix of Fleetwood Mac's _Gypsy_ came on, and it was like the floor belonged to Misty; that was, until Mallory joined and danced along with her sister witch and friend. Misty smiled as the end of the song came on, when she began to spin with wild abandon. The guests who were dancing formed a circle around the dancing witch and cheered her on.

To keep from getting too dizzy from spinning, she had to find a point of focus to fixate on with each revolution, and while doing so, she caught sight of what looked to be a man in a very unique, but visceral, frightening costume. He was in all black, seemingly from head to toe from her perspective, and he wore a hood over his head with a black mask. On the top toward the top hem of the hood were natural-colored horns on the side of his head, and the eyes of the man were pitch black through the mask slits. She spun a few more times but stopped because she was unsettled. Mallory, taking notice of this from the circle of cheering people, walked up to her sister witch and tapped her shoulder and tried to look in the direction Misty was facing. Meanwhile, the crowd dispersed so that it went back to filling up the hall once more.

"What is it, Misty? What are you looking at?" she asked.

The swamp witch shook her head and then glanced at Mallory: "I…uh…"

"Is someone here?" Mallory repeated.

Misty looked back at where she saw the man in the frightening black garb and mask; "h-he's gone."

"Gone?"

"Yeah… d-don't worry," Misty said, turning to her entirely and smiling. "I'm fine."

"You look like you could use a little something to drink," Mallory said. "How about punch?"

"Not spiked, I hope," Misty replied, "I don't drink."

"No, there's the non-alcoholic kind," the young witch smiled, walking over with her friend following her.

When they got to the table with refreshments, Misty got herself a plate and filled it with two finger sandwiches, a large chocolate chip cookie, some grapes and strawberries, and a fair mix of croquettes and blinis prepared especially by Myrtle. She had a free hand to collect the cup of punch Mallory scooped for her, and when she got her own, they took to the ancestry room to sit down and eat on the sofa. With Misty's stack of food, both of them were sufficiently fed; Mallory took a particular liking to the blinis. Mallory asked one more time before heading off to dance if she was alright.

"Will you be okay?" she asked.

"Yes," Misty said.

"Good." Mallory was off with her dance partner, who held her hand and led her back.

By this point at the party, the majority of the people were out in the main hall near the grand staircase, dancing to the music. Misty looked at the great grandfather clock that stood near the piano; it read 10:30pm. Resting her back near the end arm of the sofa, she lifted her legs up on the seats and brought her knees to her chest, sighing pensively about the inevitable.

 _Less than two hours,_ she thought, _I'll be back down in the underworld_.

Then she felt tender hands caressing her shoulders. Before she could gasp or react, she looked and saw they were gloved in black velvet. One of the hands moved up slowly to the curve of her neck. She shivered uncomfortably and looked back and up at who it was – it was the man in all black and the devilish mask she spotted while dancing.

"Ah," she let out with a reactive gasp, getting her feet off the couch and sitting upright.

"I didn't mean to scare you," the man said. There was a certain youthfulness to his voice. _Sounds familiar_ , she thought as she felt him take a seat next to her on the sofa.

"T-Take off your mask… p-please?" she asked politely. "You're scarin' me."

"Why are you scared of me, my love?" he asked. "You _know_ I can't remove my mask… yet."

Upon feeling his velvet-covered hand caress her face, she knew exactly who this was. How did he manage to get into the party? Then again, given his demonic heritage, it really didn't need much more contemplation. Misty braved it and looked into the eyes of the mask, her body shaking. They were no longer pitch black, but instead the same piercing, bright blue-green she learned to love so well. She relaxed a little at how his gaze seemed comforting despite all appearances.

"Michael…"

"It's me, my dear," he said.

"Y-You're takin' me _now_?" Misty asked sadly, looking at the people having fun in the main hall from the ancestry room. "I…I want to enjoy the party… please don't."

"I want to enjoy it as well," Michael said with a chuckle. He held her hand; she loved the texture of the fine velvet that made up his gloves; "with _you_."

Misty felt her heart fluttering in her chest like a bird wanting to be set free from its cage. She sighed and looked at Michael, focusing just on his eyes rather than the frightening mask that covered his visage.

"Please," she heard him say, still in a trance from his gaze. "Dance with me."

Another Stevie Nicks song came on; _yes_ , she thought, _of course_.

"Yes… yes, please," she said rapidly, but still afraid of his mask.

He stood up, and like a gentleman, he held his hand out to her. She took it and he led her to the great hall, where Misty nearly jumped at a few sudden screams from the guests. Zoe was one of those who screamed at the sight of the visceral, fearsome mask with natural-looking ram horns on either side of the forehead, and the cloak that shrouded the man wearing it like a shadow. Michael could hear the expressive phrases from all over the room regarding his get-up.

"What the hell is that thing?!"

"What's he doin' with flower maiden over here? How is she _not_ scared of him?!"

 _Stupid mortals_ , he thought to himself, laughing on the inside as he looked down right into Misty's bright blue eyes and got in a position to dance. Leading the dance, he used concilium to make her dance in perfect unison to him because he knew full well she was not ever taught formal dancing. Misty was enchanted at her perceived capability in dancing, but it was all him. She hummed along to the lyrics:

" _Well maybe I'm just thinking_

 _that the rooms are all on fire_ _  
_ _Every time that you walk in the room_ _  
_ _Well there is magic all around you,_

 _if I do say so myself_ _  
_ _I have known this much longer than I've known you_ …"

The entire room, who had stopped and cleared the way to watch the Michael, dressed as a lord of the underworld and Misty as the flower maiden dance to the song, suddenly started clapping and cheering at how perfectly in unison the dancing was. Cordelia, who was watching from a distance, sighed and looked at Myrtle and Queenie, who stood at her sides – Myrtle was dressed in a stereotypical witch costume with a black hat and tiny broom on her belt, while Queenie donned skeleton-styled white makeup and a coordinating body suit with an anatomical skeleton printed on the front.

"It's him," she said.

"I know, dear bird," Myrtle said. "Try not to fuss. If you can, maybe be the last person she sees before he takes her."

"This is a public party," Queenie said, reminding her Supreme. "Maybe he wants to have a little fun, too."

"His dancing is _impeccable_ ," Myrtle said, her voice dancing. "And he moves her _just_ the right way."

The three watched as the dance ended along with the music, and they all clapped. People still parted like the Red Sea when Michael escorted Misty out of the house. Without thinking twice, she went with him with a huge smile on her face, giggling as he held her arm in his. Cordelia did not waste any time, leaving the two fellow witches to follow not far behind Michael and Misty to where he seemed to be taking her. She picked up the front of her costume, so she wouldn't trip, and walked ahead, struggling to catch up.

Within a few minutes, Misty was out in the night air with Michael, who caught the fearful eyes of parents taking their kids trick-or-treating on the block. He smiled under his mask, and Misty followed him toward the back of the house to go into the greenhouse. She checked around and realized they were completely alone, just the two of them.

"It's… still early," she said, stammering.

"I know," he said. "I won't take you _yet_."

 _Zzzzziiiipp…_

Misty turned around to see him unzipping the back of the frightening mask, taking it off to reveal his handsome face, which ironically looked angelic. Her heart fluttered even more, and she even felt herself blushing in his presence. His eyes pierced her like daggers, but were so full of love, paired along with an upright closed smile. His golden locks were a little messy from being contained in the mask, and it even looked to be growing out. He reached and clipped a part of the mask to what looked to be his belt and approached Misty, whose hands reached to touch his face, tearing up with a mix of joy and anticipation.

"Much better," she muttered.

"I don't think you realize how much my heart has ached for you these past two weeks," he admitted. "I sit around in that _fucking_ school twiddling my thumbs until I can go into Descensum and see you there waiting for me." He pulled her close to him, clutching her waist firmly; "but now… I have you."

He leaned in slowly as if to kiss her, and her heart only grew fonder with anticipation as he brushed his lips against hers before working his passion into it. He felt her body trembling, and he himself began to feel his bulge start to grow in his pants. She felt her knees turn to jelly as he moved down her neck, kissing softly but rapidly, setting her skin on fire. When he felt like she was almost about to fall on the floor, he picked her up and sat her on the workbench. Misty was breathing heavily, feeling the same heat between her legs as she felt when Michael was handling her facing the black mirror in the underworld. She wanted to let him seduce her right then and there… but she heard footsteps.

"Misty? Are you here?"

Michael took that as a signal to step away from his bride, and Misty closed her legs and adjusted the skirt of her maxi dress to make it look like he did _not_ try to manhandle her in his passionate way just then. She saw Cordelia in her Greek harvest goddess costume, who instantly noticed her fair, flushed skin from what just happened.

"Oh, I t-thought you'd left with him," the Supreme said.

"No," Misty said.

"Midnight," Michael cut in. "We made a deal. I'm honoring that. I just wanted to see my love, that's all."

"I… have no objection to that," Cordelia said.

"Miss Cordelia," Misty said, stepping down off her seat on the workbench and approaching her Supreme, holding her cold, nervous hands in hers, "you don't have to worry. I promise I'll be back in May. Just you wait and see, the time _will_ pass."

Michael concurred, taking her under his cloak halfway as he spread it over her back; "speaking of the passage of time," he said, holding a gold pocket watch, "we have an hour left. It is a nice night. Perhaps you'd like to walk with me, Misty?"

She nodded and smiled; "yes."

Before she left, however, she got out from under his cloak and hugged Cordelia tightly. The Supreme felt the flowers woven into her golden curls as he touched her hair in their farewell embrace. She could smell the strong scent of the fresh flowers, but her signature patchouli scent also lingered about. Cordelia teared up and let her beloved swamp witch go. When she did, Michael took her under his arm and looked into her eyes. Cordelia watched them walk toward the entrance of the greenhouse, where she saw Misty glancing back at her with tranquility before Michael covered her completely with his cloak.

They were gone.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_**

 _That's a wrap, folks! We've come to the end of the story. Thanks for all of the reviews, you know who you are; also, thanks for reading my first story on here in 2 years. It feels good to write once again, I'll also be putting it up on Wattpad, hopefully on there, there will be a more interactive, immersive version with music, pictures and GIFs to bring the story to life. I wish FF had that, too. But alas._

 _If you enjoy my writing, give me a Follow and a Favorite! If you liked the story, let me know in the Reviews what you thought! I love hearing feedback. See you on the flipside!_


	8. SEQUELS IN SERIES

_**King of Hell (AHS: Apocalypse)**_ is the first in a trilogy of stories in a succession of events starting at this point. I hope you enjoyed! The other titles following in this story line are:

 _ **-Daughter of Darkness (AHS: Apocalypse)**_

SYNOPSIS: This takes place as an alternate scenario where Michael reigns over the world post-apocalypse without the witches trying to save the world when they planned to. From beginnings as the daughter of a high-ranking Cooperative agent to Princess of her father's kingdom, Melanie Langdon has always been privileged. Is rising to inherit the Antichrist's throne in her destiny?

 _ **-New Order (AHS: Apocalypse)**_

SYNOPSIS: The third and final in the series. Set five years after the events of ' _Daughter of Darkness_ ', King Elijah of Regnum Infernale receives a series of visitations from his distant past. The visitors urge him to undergo a dangerous magical feat that could change his world forever. Meanwhile, his son is on a dangerous power trip. Is it really worth throwing away the life he's always known in order to restore the natural order?


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